[It's hard, to say the least, but she manages to push herself up far enough that she can get her arms around his shoulders, levering herself up the rest of the way until she's draped across his back, linking her arms around each other to better help hold on.
He's so much warmer to lie on than the unforgiving floor. He's soft, and smells of home and magic instead of the thick and cloying aromas of the workshop, and she's quick to bury her face against his neck and breathe him in.]
You have to...
[She's so tired, she's not thinking straight. But this is important and she needs him to know it, needs to collect herself enough that she can tell him.]
no subject
He's so much warmer to lie on than the unforgiving floor. He's soft, and smells of home and magic instead of the thick and cloying aromas of the workshop, and she's quick to bury her face against his neck and breathe him in.]
You have to...
[She's so tired, she's not thinking straight. But this is important and she needs him to know it, needs to collect herself enough that she can tell him.]
There's a letter. I don't know what it says.
[She clings a little harder, more determined.]
He talked about a letter.