[The directions are more to ensure Quentin's weight ends up balanced right than any real need for him to hold on. Jedao scoops him up gently and carries him down the stairs back to his own cabin, while Pope wiggles his little feet a little at seeing Quentin there.]
[He settles Quentin in bed, tucks him in under his blankets, then puts Pope on his chest, instructing the hedgehog very seriously to take care of him for me for a moment while he collects his tea set, then returns to sit next to Quentin as he starts brewing Rosethorn's guilt-gift of her healing tea. It doesn't fix the toll, but it takes the edge off a little, and he doctors it with a very large spoonful of honey. While they wait, he strokes Quentin's hair steadily and gently, and doesn't make him talk about it.]
Jedao urges him to take a few more swallows, then takes the teacup to balance it safely away. He strips off his jacket and lays it over Quentin's eyes and bunched over his hair, the fabric sleek and dark and warm, smelling faintly of Jedao.
He picks the first thing he sees on the shelf that looks particularly well-worn, and starts at the beginning.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Hero.
[He rasps, achily, trusting his weight easily into Jedao's arms.]
no subject
[The directions are more to ensure Quentin's weight ends up balanced right than any real need for him to hold on. Jedao scoops him up gently and carries him down the stairs back to his own cabin, while Pope wiggles his little feet a little at seeing Quentin there.]
I'm making you tea, and you're going to like it.
[He does not sound stern at all.]
no subject
He finds a spot he can lean on Jedao's shoulder without squooshing Pope too badly, and breathes out a long, relieved sigh.]
no subject
no subject
[Warns Quentin, croakily, as the scent of the tea lifts him out of a dizzy drowse.]
no subject
Credence?
[If it's Lark or Bill, he doesn't fucking know what he'll do, but he's damn well doing something.]
no subject
[He agrees, eyes shut.]
No memories. He's confused, mad, sad. I could have taken him, but not without ending the fight hard and ugly.
no subject
[He kisses Quentin right between the furrow of his eyebrows, and strokes his cheek.]
At least he's back.
[His voice is tender; even sincere.]
no subject
[Says Quentin, grouchily.
He's going to be fine.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He picks the first thing he sees on the shelf that looks particularly well-worn, and starts at the beginning.
no subject
Quentin is asleep before Kvothe's parents are even brutally murdered in front of him as a child.