Hex Code: #ff0789
Tempeste severed the connection between her and Korgan before her thoughts could intrude. Her magenta eyes watered like a glass filled to the brim waiting to spill. Her hands fell to her lap as she gripped the hem of her clothes and hung her head low. A dream, should it be sweet, is a wish your heart makes. He hadn't forgotten, no, not completely of his life before her.
She whipped her head around to eye the room that contained Ivelda, the would-be tears stinging. If she were to discover this... Her lips quivered but stayed pressed and sealed, only looking away when a few nurses walked past. Her palms were red from the nails digging in, holding onto the cloth between as tightly as she held onto his dream. There was hope and she didn't want to let go.
The healer cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes on a clean section of her sleeve. The material was harsh but did its job. She won't. Her arm fell and she looked over the sleeping beastly form of Prince Garland with a new face. One of blonde hair, and blue eyes, ready to set sail and take on the world.
Tempeste prepared a basin of warm water, soaked a soft cloth, and twisted it. She looked over Roderick, who was equally covered in muck and in need of a wash. I wonder, what do you dream of? But her thoughts on that subject ended there, carefully wiping the sweat from Korgan's forehead and the grime from his jaw.
"You've got grit. Don't ever lose it."
You too, your highness.