A/N: It has been ages since I've written something, so I'm reposting my old drabbles here while I work out my writing for something else. I hope that's fine, and I hope you like it. c:
There was something that Kayle misses about her old home back at their world. It was definitely not the grand mansion that barely had anyone in it, or her room that she can barely fill, not even the chairs and tables where she tolerated hours studying on them. If there was something she enjoyed doing back at home aside from serving her people, it would be sleeping. Her work and responsibility gets rather tiring, and it was quite her only escape from reality, or rather, the stress of it.
She missed how warm her bed was; a bed which was not warmed by a fire or hearth, or by magic, but by herself, and her sister, whose daily jobs still allow them to sleep at the same time. Even after growing up, they liked sleeping together in the same bed, with arms and wings around each other, wanting the moment of solitude to last.
In the Institute, there was no such thing. Her bed was fancy, and was made especially for her, considering that she would not be comfortable on a smaller-sized bed, but she only occupies half of the space, with her wings around her to make up whatever warmth the hearth in her room fails to fulfill. At certain times, she even falls flat on the floor, her sleeping self finding something to cling onto. The pain from the fall was more than enough to wake her from the hazy wish that company would be impossible.
There was a certain time, though, where she has found herself the luxury to sleep beside someone else, and those times were some of the most restful nights she had spent in the Institute. Company during the night is welcomed, and cherished, even, especially if it is a close one — not like she would even want to sleep close to someone she barely knew. After all the time she had lived, the mindset of sleep being for the weak was never something she believed.
Of course, there is barely anything to remember in these days, except the warmth she felt, or the breathing she takes and hears, and the somewhat uncomfortable distance between them. But if there was anything she can do to repay the person, it would be to provide them her own warmth, wrapping her wings around them, pulling them a little closer, making them feel more at ease, and at home, even though her own mind is in tangles and knots.
But it's a warmth better than any hearth.