"She's not eating."
"Yes, Sai. I know."
"She's losing a lot of weight."
"Yes, Sai" I know."
"What're you thinkin" of doin" "bout it?"
"I don't know, Sai." Quillan let out a dramatic sigh, tossing down the dish towel and turning to face the cowboy, arms already starting to cross. It always seemed like these kinds of talks happen while she was in this room, the kitchen. She made a mental note to start spending more time out of it. "What do you think we should do' We can't force her to eat."
The cowboy stood by the archway that completed one end of the hallway that split the distance between kitchen and living room. Kingsley, the topic of their current (and most common) conversation, was in there, strumming a quiet tune on her harp. She had gotten better at it over the months, if only because of the added sense of sorrow that now instructed her fingers to create the songs that came out of them. It was always those same kinds of songs, low and quiet and sad. Having noticed this a long time ago, the Gunslinger's lips went thin.
"I know you can't force her." Pushing away from the wall, Sai turned to face the blonde Irish woman. "But you know she can't stay like this forever, and she ain't goin" to get any better without help."
"What do you mean, help?" Instantly, Quillan was suspicious. Narrowing her eyes at the cowboy, she watched him as he moved further into the kitchen and away from the hallway. When he didn't answer her but looked at her with those too-blue eyes, comprehension snapped. "No' Sai! You can't. Not again!" Her voice had gone to a raspy whisper, her arms dropping as her long legs swallowed up what little distance remained between them and her eyes darting to the archway as if, at any moment, Kingsley might come bounding in at any minute and know exactly what they were talking about. That was absurd, of course; she never remembered a thing and would never put two and two together. But still, being naturally protective of her youngest sibling, Quillan didn't want to have to deal with it regardless. "I understand doing it before. We had to. But you can't be thinking of doing it again."
"What else do you say we do?" Sai asked, it now being his turn to fold his arms across his chest. "She can't stay like this, Quill. You know she can't. Bein" what she is, her emotions play a big part in things and bein" so down all the time?" He shook his head. "It's not doin" her, or anyone else, any good."
Quillan didn't have anything at her disposal to fight with. Even though she didn't like it and would fight tooth and nail to prevent any harm from coming to the little Astral, she couldn't deny that the Gunslinger was right. Exasperated and helpless, she let out a heavy sigh and looked, defeated, at her friend.
"Hey," he said, stepping up in front of her and putting both large hands on her biceps. "You know I want Kings protected as much as anyone else." Quillan nodded. "And you know that I'll do anythin" to keep her safe." Again, she nodded. "Then you've got to trust me and let me do what?s right."
"Just' promise me one thing?" she asked with a quiet voice. She hadn't noticed it before but tears were in her eyes. Sniffling, she quickly wiped them away. Almost no one ever saw the stoic Irishwoman so distraught, let alone crying. The cowboy was lucky in that aspect. Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.
?"Course," the Gunslinger said, giving her his softest smile, which wasn't much. Gently, he rubbed a calloused thumb across her skin. "Anythin"."
"Just make her happy again." She looked up at the taller man and gave him a weak smile. His faded but eventually he nodded, drawing the woman into his arms, in which she curled up meekly.
?"Course, Quill" You know I will.?
"Yes, Sai. I know."
"She's losing a lot of weight."
"Yes, Sai" I know."
"What're you thinkin" of doin" "bout it?"
"I don't know, Sai." Quillan let out a dramatic sigh, tossing down the dish towel and turning to face the cowboy, arms already starting to cross. It always seemed like these kinds of talks happen while she was in this room, the kitchen. She made a mental note to start spending more time out of it. "What do you think we should do' We can't force her to eat."
The cowboy stood by the archway that completed one end of the hallway that split the distance between kitchen and living room. Kingsley, the topic of their current (and most common) conversation, was in there, strumming a quiet tune on her harp. She had gotten better at it over the months, if only because of the added sense of sorrow that now instructed her fingers to create the songs that came out of them. It was always those same kinds of songs, low and quiet and sad. Having noticed this a long time ago, the Gunslinger's lips went thin.
"I know you can't force her." Pushing away from the wall, Sai turned to face the blonde Irish woman. "But you know she can't stay like this forever, and she ain't goin" to get any better without help."
"What do you mean, help?" Instantly, Quillan was suspicious. Narrowing her eyes at the cowboy, she watched him as he moved further into the kitchen and away from the hallway. When he didn't answer her but looked at her with those too-blue eyes, comprehension snapped. "No' Sai! You can't. Not again!" Her voice had gone to a raspy whisper, her arms dropping as her long legs swallowed up what little distance remained between them and her eyes darting to the archway as if, at any moment, Kingsley might come bounding in at any minute and know exactly what they were talking about. That was absurd, of course; she never remembered a thing and would never put two and two together. But still, being naturally protective of her youngest sibling, Quillan didn't want to have to deal with it regardless. "I understand doing it before. We had to. But you can't be thinking of doing it again."
"What else do you say we do?" Sai asked, it now being his turn to fold his arms across his chest. "She can't stay like this, Quill. You know she can't. Bein" what she is, her emotions play a big part in things and bein" so down all the time?" He shook his head. "It's not doin" her, or anyone else, any good."
Quillan didn't have anything at her disposal to fight with. Even though she didn't like it and would fight tooth and nail to prevent any harm from coming to the little Astral, she couldn't deny that the Gunslinger was right. Exasperated and helpless, she let out a heavy sigh and looked, defeated, at her friend.
"Hey," he said, stepping up in front of her and putting both large hands on her biceps. "You know I want Kings protected as much as anyone else." Quillan nodded. "And you know that I'll do anythin" to keep her safe." Again, she nodded. "Then you've got to trust me and let me do what?s right."
"Just' promise me one thing?" she asked with a quiet voice. She hadn't noticed it before but tears were in her eyes. Sniffling, she quickly wiped them away. Almost no one ever saw the stoic Irishwoman so distraught, let alone crying. The cowboy was lucky in that aspect. Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.
?"Course," the Gunslinger said, giving her his softest smile, which wasn't much. Gently, he rubbed a calloused thumb across her skin. "Anythin"."
"Just make her happy again." She looked up at the taller man and gave him a weak smile. His faded but eventually he nodded, drawing the woman into his arms, in which she curled up meekly.
?"Course, Quill" You know I will.?