There are agonies that don't ever really fade. The half-elf with her knows this. But there is relief, from time to time. An outlet for all these fears and frustrations and pain. He hopes, truly hopes that, for all the pain he's given her, Najaran has found a bit of comfort from him, from this, from crying, until her tears ran dry.
He lets her sobs taper down, lets her breathing smooth over the hitch in her lungs, still here, still holding her. If nothing else, he can help her weather the storm that seems to have caught up with her.
A soothing silence comes to cloak them in its embrace, wrapping them in the warmth Esteban can share. A warmth of fire, and a gentle pat between her shoulders, and, letting her rest, seeing her settle and quieten, Esteban draws his hoodie off his shoulders, gently wrapping it around his friend, so she won't grow cold.
His voice rises in a murmur, even and steady, but discreet, like the patter of a gentle rain against a window. The hand returns to settle against her back, and Esteban tries to give her something to anchor her here. Or maybe something to help her slip into dreams, hopefully bright ones.
"I-- don't really know what to say; to make you feel better. I'm not great at talkin' people out of their pain-- I never know how." He repeats. Whether Najaran hears him or not, he can't quite tell, but he can try. He can try. "But I can always try an' distract them. So. You can list'n to me, or not list'n to me, it's okay. I'm just-- I'm here." It's all he can do.
"I'm here." There's a handful of heartbeats again, where the half-elf remains quiet, letting her protest or rise or, or something. Or anything. But if she won't, well. He can offer her this. He's gathered stories from all over his world after all; it's easy for him to settle onto one to share.
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He lets her sobs taper down, lets her breathing smooth over the hitch in her lungs, still here, still holding her. If nothing else, he can help her weather the storm that seems to have caught up with her.
A soothing silence comes to cloak them in its embrace, wrapping them in the warmth Esteban can share. A warmth of fire, and a gentle pat between her shoulders, and, letting her rest, seeing her settle and quieten, Esteban draws his hoodie off his shoulders, gently wrapping it around his friend, so she won't grow cold.
His voice rises in a murmur, even and steady, but discreet, like the patter of a gentle rain against a window. The hand returns to settle against her back, and Esteban tries to give her something to anchor her here. Or maybe something to help her slip into dreams, hopefully bright ones.
"I-- don't really know what to say; to make you feel better. I'm not great at talkin' people out of their pain-- I never know how." He repeats. Whether Najaran hears him or not, he can't quite tell, but he can try. He can try. "But I can always try an' distract them. So. You can list'n to me, or not list'n to me, it's okay. I'm just-- I'm here." It's all he can do.
"I'm here." There's a handful of heartbeats again, where the half-elf remains quiet, letting her protest or rise or, or something. Or anything. But if she won't, well. He can offer her this. He's gathered stories from all over his world after all; it's easy for him to settle onto one to share.