[ Reynir can't remember the last time anyone did anything like this for him - taking care of him like this, cleaning up after him, soothing him, singing to him. His fitful tossing and turning grows gradually less, and less, and even though he is still hovering between wakefulness and sleep, it is a more tranquil suspension than it had been.
The fever and the exhaustion remove what little verbal inhibitions he had had, and Reynir murmurs: ]
That's pretty. You sing really pretty.
[ He is settled, now, curled up in the bedsheets. But he moves, just a little, curling towards Onni, like he wants to be closer to him, to his voice and presence. It's not a conscious choice. Something in him just turns towards Onni, is drawn in his direction. He gets close enough that he is curled neatly around where Onni is perched at the edge of the bed, pressing against him from underneath the blankets, eyes shut, face finally growing calmer as he slips into a deeper sleep.
Reynir makes his way to Onni's area; he's not exactly at full strength even in the dream, and he knows it is a safe place to spend his time, that Onni keeps it protected with all kinds of magic he still barely understands. Of course, none of those things keep him out, but they discourage.... other visitors.
He is there when Onni appears; Reynir has curled up using his fylgja as a makeshift pillow, in the roots of one of the big trees he often finds Onni by. When there is movement, Reynir looks up, a little bleary even in the dream, and sees: ]
no subject
The fever and the exhaustion remove what little verbal inhibitions he had had, and Reynir murmurs: ]
That's pretty. You sing really pretty.
[ He is settled, now, curled up in the bedsheets. But he moves, just a little, curling towards Onni, like he wants to be closer to him, to his voice and presence. It's not a conscious choice. Something in him just turns towards Onni, is drawn in his direction. He gets close enough that he is curled neatly around where Onni is perched at the edge of the bed, pressing against him from underneath the blankets, eyes shut, face finally growing calmer as he slips into a deeper sleep.
Reynir makes his way to Onni's area; he's not exactly at full strength even in the dream, and he knows it is a safe place to spend his time, that Onni keeps it protected with all kinds of magic he still barely understands. Of course, none of those things keep him out, but they discourage.... other visitors.
He is there when Onni appears; Reynir has curled up using his fylgja as a makeshift pillow, in the roots of one of the big trees he often finds Onni by. When there is movement, Reynir looks up, a little bleary even in the dream, and sees: ]
Onni?