the answer is still no; he will insist that he has weathered worse storms with less shelter and they will cuddle the driest corner they can, ok, that's how this is going to go
no arwenbrella
His eyes fall, when her fingers brush his face; he is not distracted, he is still alert to dangers, still listening to her, but his attention is split between his cares and her touch, the latter lessening the pain of the former. When Arwen Undomiel touches your face, you fucking pay attention.
Aragorn only wishes he had better news.
"They do not intend to release us," he says gravely. His words are chosen carefully: there are no falsehoods (as if he could lie to Arwen, come the fuck on) but there is also nothing dangerous. "They intend for us to fight to the death here, then revive us by unknown arts only to fight and be killed again in a cycle with no end."
no subject
the answer is still no; he will insist that he has weathered worse storms with less shelter and they will cuddle the driest corner they can, ok, that's how this is going to go
no arwenbrella
His eyes fall, when her fingers brush his face; he is not distracted, he is still alert to dangers, still listening to her, but his attention is split between his cares and her touch, the latter lessening the pain of the former. When Arwen Undomiel touches your face, you fucking pay attention.
Aragorn only wishes he had better news.
"They do not intend to release us," he says gravely. His words are chosen carefully: there are no falsehoods (as if he could lie to Arwen, come the fuck on) but there is also nothing dangerous. "They intend for us to fight to the death here, then revive us by unknown arts only to fight and be killed again in a cycle with no end."