67th through 68th of Spring, 502. A.V.
Infirmary and various other spots.
Early morning
Happy birthday, Gale.
What a wonderful day you’re having, Gale.
What are you going to do today, Gale?
I’m going…to die.
Gale had a brief conversation with himself as he rolled his stiff neck to the side and fluttering his eyes open. It was still a strange feeling to not wake up in bed at home and instead you’re in a chair at an Infirmary. It also wasn’t very pleasant to wake up remembering why you were there in the first place. The blonde lifted his head off the back of the chair, looking over at the bed silently.
The brunette was looking at the brown sketchbook, flipping through the pages slowly with a wide grin. Hearing the soft rustle of Gale pushing himself to sit up, his wife looked over at him. “Good morning, Birthday boy.” She said with a raspy voice.
"Morning." Gale said tiredly, folding his hands together and then stretching his arms and legs like a cat might. "Though I don't dare call it a good one." He finished after recovering from a long yawn.
"It's you're birthday, isn't it?" Hana smiled softly over at him, her skin being awfully pale for her skin tone.
"Yes, but the date doesn't matter. It's the things that happen on those dates is what makes it a good or bad day." The artist leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.
"Then in that case, I think it's a wonderful day."
This puzzled Gale greatly. He was not able to understand how one woman, while on her death bed, be so happy and joyous of the day and the days she has left to come. It was almost as if she had forgotten she was even dying, and at much too fast of a rate. She remained ignorant to her current position in this world, but Gale did not want to remind her.
"Why is that, if I may ask?" He asked, attempting to sound as upbeat about it as she was. And it seemed to have worked, for her smile grew larger and she responded softly, but surely.
"Because I get to see the man I love once more."
A heart ache is not quite the word that can be used to express what Gale had felt in his heart when she spoke. It was warm, almost like embarrassment, but had the cold tint of of knowledge. The type of knowledge of that of someone who was asked a question from a child of why their paren'ts won't wake up. The feeling roughly moved in his chest but managed to also bring a soft smirk to his face.
The man did not know what to say.
But he did not need to, for Hana had turned her laying head back towards the brown book and looked once again upon it's content. "I wish you would take more pride in your work." Her fingers skimmed over the dark lines softly. "You have a lot of talent, Gale. If you wanted you could be the best artist in Zeltiva one of these days." The curved smile that once was held to her face faded into nothing. Nothing more then a thoughtful stare. " Though, every time I mention it you change the subject as if it was your mother I brought up... Are you ashamed to draw, Gale? Why must you be so critical of your work?"
A blanket of guilt covered the blonde, attempting to choke him into a confession of something he did not do. "I don't know..." The answer was soft. Nothing above a whisper.
Gale always knew that Hana envied his hands for what they could create onto paper. Always knew she adored his work and wished she could do the same. She mentioned it a lot, actually, now that he thought about it more. Almost everyday for that fact... Must have been blind to not see her intentions with her constant compliments and requests to draw things for her. Hana wanted to help him improve, to be someone someday. Did she take his self-criticisms to heart? Thinking that he despised his work? Did he always sound so negative that she could assume he was ashamed of his work?
"I-...I don't know. I suppose it was my way of trying to improve myself..." The excuse didn't dull down the heavy feeling his his chest.
Infirmary and various other spots.
Early morning
Happy birthday, Gale.
What a wonderful day you’re having, Gale.
What are you going to do today, Gale?
I’m going…to die.
Gale had a brief conversation with himself as he rolled his stiff neck to the side and fluttering his eyes open. It was still a strange feeling to not wake up in bed at home and instead you’re in a chair at an Infirmary. It also wasn’t very pleasant to wake up remembering why you were there in the first place. The blonde lifted his head off the back of the chair, looking over at the bed silently.
The brunette was looking at the brown sketchbook, flipping through the pages slowly with a wide grin. Hearing the soft rustle of Gale pushing himself to sit up, his wife looked over at him. “Good morning, Birthday boy.” She said with a raspy voice.
"Morning." Gale said tiredly, folding his hands together and then stretching his arms and legs like a cat might. "Though I don't dare call it a good one." He finished after recovering from a long yawn.
"It's you're birthday, isn't it?" Hana smiled softly over at him, her skin being awfully pale for her skin tone.
"Yes, but the date doesn't matter. It's the things that happen on those dates is what makes it a good or bad day." The artist leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.
"Then in that case, I think it's a wonderful day."
This puzzled Gale greatly. He was not able to understand how one woman, while on her death bed, be so happy and joyous of the day and the days she has left to come. It was almost as if she had forgotten she was even dying, and at much too fast of a rate. She remained ignorant to her current position in this world, but Gale did not want to remind her.
"Why is that, if I may ask?" He asked, attempting to sound as upbeat about it as she was. And it seemed to have worked, for her smile grew larger and she responded softly, but surely.
"Because I get to see the man I love once more."
A heart ache is not quite the word that can be used to express what Gale had felt in his heart when she spoke. It was warm, almost like embarrassment, but had the cold tint of of knowledge. The type of knowledge of that of someone who was asked a question from a child of why their paren'ts won't wake up. The feeling roughly moved in his chest but managed to also bring a soft smirk to his face.
The man did not know what to say.
But he did not need to, for Hana had turned her laying head back towards the brown book and looked once again upon it's content. "I wish you would take more pride in your work." Her fingers skimmed over the dark lines softly. "You have a lot of talent, Gale. If you wanted you could be the best artist in Zeltiva one of these days." The curved smile that once was held to her face faded into nothing. Nothing more then a thoughtful stare. " Though, every time I mention it you change the subject as if it was your mother I brought up... Are you ashamed to draw, Gale? Why must you be so critical of your work?"
A blanket of guilt covered the blonde, attempting to choke him into a confession of something he did not do. "I don't know..." The answer was soft. Nothing above a whisper.
Gale always knew that Hana envied his hands for what they could create onto paper. Always knew she adored his work and wished she could do the same. She mentioned it a lot, actually, now that he thought about it more. Almost everyday for that fact... Must have been blind to not see her intentions with her constant compliments and requests to draw things for her. Hana wanted to help him improve, to be someone someday. Did she take his self-criticisms to heart? Thinking that he despised his work? Did he always sound so negative that she could assume he was ashamed of his work?
"I-...I don't know. I suppose it was my way of trying to improve myself..." The excuse didn't dull down the heavy feeling his his chest.
