Aisling sat on a chair in front of the crackling hearth of Honeyside, clad only in a pair of black linen pants and a matching color breast band. She knew that she should be sleeping if she planned on heading up to Windhelm for her trip to Solstheim, but her mind was refusing to quiet down. If it ended up being a restless night, well, it wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Lifeless sapphires glance at the pile of armor in the corner by the door and the Nord couldn't help but wonder if this… this dealing with stupidity day in and day out, in tandem with the greed, made Mercer do what he did. Not that she blamed him, in hindsight- in the end, all a thief could count on was their skill and their luck, no one and nothing else. A slight smirk graces her face as the thought that the Breton was laughing at her from wherever traitors go when they die crosses her mind. Betrayer though the former Guild Master might have been, Aisling would not deny that the bastard was a brilliant asshole.
A soft knock on the front door breaks the redhead out of her reverie, her eyes moving back to stare into the flames. The woman's pale head tilts slightly, trying to hear outside- her internal clock from the time spent in the Ratways was telling the thief that it was just past one in the morning, so who would be calling on her this late at night? Then again, she was an agent of Nocturnal- the night was her time. Perhaps if I ignore it, they'll go away... She hears a second, then a third rap on the wood, followed by a muffled swear.
There's a few moments of silence, followed by the very familiar sound of a pick being slipped into the lock. As much as the Guild Master for the thieves should be insulted that someone dared break into her own home, at this point in time, she was too damned tired to care. The door opens, two soft steps signal someone entering, then the portal quietly shuts, the lock being put back in place. More steps, the placing of a sack on her table- still no words to distinguish who was paying a late night visit.
Finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, a black garbed figure kneels in Aisling's line of vision. Rough fingers lightly take a hold of her chin and press upwards, forcing the Guild Master's face and therefore her eyes to look forward. Who the woman saw caused her eyebrow just to rise slightly in question.
"Delvin. Is there a reason you're breaking into my house at this hour of the night? Did something happen already for you to have to not only darken my doorstep but disturb my reprieve from bullshit?" The ginger leans backwards in her chair, the movement releasing her jaw from his hold. A sigh escapes her when, instead of getting a timely response to her question, she sees dark eyes staring just below her neck at the obvious lack of tunic covering her torso. Out of habit, long fingers move and flick the intruding thief in the middle of his forehead. "Eyes front, idiot, lest I start calling you Brynjolf's long lost brother with the way you were starin'."
The Breton, unlike the male Nord he was being compared to, at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry Boss. Just... it's rare to see you outside your armor, that's all."
"I don't live in my leathers, Mallory. They're not always...enough...for some things I need to do. Even then, the more durable armors have proven unable to protect from everything."
"Nothing ever does," her unexpected visitor agrees quietly, then meets her gaze. "In answer to your question, I...was worried."
A soft snort of disbelief is barely heard over the the combined sounds of the fire and the waters of Lake Honrich. "I don't need nor want anyone's concern. I'm fine."
"Your mouth says one thing, your body screams something else Aisling." A calloused thumb brushes lightly under her left eye and down her jawline. "You're running yourself ragged, not taking a moment to rest." His other hand lightly takes a hold of her side, feeling the bones press into his palm. "You're not eating."
"I eat." Lie, her conscience tells her, and she inwardly winces. It was true- Aisling tended to focus more on trying to get work done that the concept of eating was shoved to the back of her mind. In fact, it was forgotten more often than not unless someone shoved a dish in her hands and watched her eat what was on it.
"Obviously not enough," the trainer retorts, his mouth setting into a firm line. "Why are you pushing yourself so hard?"
"Why? Do you need a reminder of what the Guild was like when I first stepped foot into the Flagon? If I slow down, we'll go back to that," his leader snarks back, then continues. "We can't afford to get complacent just because Nocturnal's put favorable luck back in our laps. She can give, but she can also take it away just as fast."
"I'm not saying become complacent, and you know it." His larger hands move up to cup her face once more, causing cool blue orbs to focus back on warm browns. "Slow down. Remember to breathe. Remember to live."
Aisling blinks slowly, the touch removing her ability to speak. Finally she gets her brain and vocal chords on the same page and whispers "I don't... know how, I suppose. I've always been asked to sacrifice for the many that it has become second nature."
"We'll just have to fix that, won't we?" Before the woman could respond, a leather covered arm snakes around her neck, the second under her legs and Delvin picks her up from the seat. "The first lesson is to reintroduce you to this lovely little thing called...a bed. Don't try to convince me you use one- I know you tend to sleep in your chair in the Guild more often than not."
"Ack! Mallory! Put me down!" Her protest falls on deaf ears and the woman huffs petulantly, like a child who's favorite toy was taken from them. "I am capable of walking, you know."
"Second lesson- let others take care of you once in awhile. There's no crime in relying on people when you need it. But," the Breton goes, cutting her off, "you also need to actually open your mouth and say something. We're not mind readers, Boss..."
A soft yawn bounces off the walls of the living area as he gently lays her down on top of the mattress. "Not sure why it matters. As soon as I'm back on my feet, it's going to go back to the way it was. But, I suppose I can humor you, just for tonight." The redhead yawns again, curling up on her side. "Del?"
"Yeah?" he responds, pulling a chair over and sitting down.
"Stay?"
The dimness of the room hides the soft smile on the man's face. "Sleep Aisling, I'll be here when you wake up."
"Mmkay..." she mumbles, the last thing her fading awareness registers was the feeling of fingers running through her hair and utter contentment...