( Wrath finds these hammocks entirely unsufferable. It is worse even than the old beds they were given in the previous village. However, this world has made sleep more of a requirement for him than it would be otherwise - he actually feels tired more often. So he is making an attempt despite the fact the hammock is far too small for his towering frame. The rolling mattress may be the better option but the idea of sleeping on the floor surrounded by dirt is nauseating to be frank.
He stands up from the hammock in frustration.
His shoulders tight and tense when he senses it, senses her - Emilia, his wife not yet, perhaps not ever. In these moments, he always allows himself to forget those details, because she's his. That is how it feels, and he can sense something is wrong even if he does not know what.
She's... on the deck. His chest aches deep, and he thinks the ache is hers or a part of himself calling out to her, needing to be beside her. )
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He stands up from the hammock in frustration.
His shoulders tight and tense when he senses it, senses her - Emilia, his wife
not yet, perhaps not ever. In these moments, he always allows himself to forget those details, because she's his. That is how it feels, and he can sense something is wrong even if he does not know what.She's... on the deck. His chest aches deep, and he thinks the ache is hers or a part of himself calling out to her, needing to be beside her. )