[Kratos does not wake up. He's clean away; it's the first solid sleep he's gotten in possibly longer than a month. He stays deeply asleep for the rest of the day and the whole way through the night.
[Sometime around dawn, he finally stirs. He doesn't snap awake, but eases into it in that way some soldiers have, where his mind puts things to order so he's already prepared by the time he awakens, without the heart-pounding jolt of suddenness. Even with that, Kratos stares up at the ceiling for a few moments, blinking.
[A few weeks is long enough to start expecting dank darkness on awakening, not a relatively soft cot, definitely soft blankets, and a remarkably blue ceiling. It takes Kratos a few moments to realise that the sheen is polished stone, like in the bathroom; and with that he remembers fully where he is, and why.
[The spare room isn't as well furnished as the bathroom, but it is better than the kitchen. ... And there seems to be a plant in this room as well, though at least that's less strange than in the bathroom. Maybe it helps with the atmosphere of the rooms without direct access to sunlight. One of the mirrors is tilted to prevent too much light as yet, but the rest are oriented to give the room the softly grey illumination of dawn.
[All of these thoughts occur with Kratos still lying flat; but once they've run their course he pushes himself upright, pulling his leg around. He isn't wearing clothes; he wonders with brief amusement how Yuan handled the transferring from bathtub to bed.
[There's clothes on a chair within arm's reach; the dresser is further way. Kratos will need to have a think about the layout of the room, it seems, though at least Yuan apparently realised the dresser's location is inconvenient. Getting dressed takes a while; Kratos hasn't been given any new clothes to change into, since being taken prisoner. It's one of those things he's not sure how to handle, where his leg is concerned.
[Still, he manages, and as Yuan said the day before, they're simple and undyed. Kratos fingers the fabric, tugging it right. It's lesser-quality cloth, compared to what he's accustomed to. He'll have to get used to that, too. Something he's never considered before. The stick is far more appreciated -- simple timber, polished, with an unexpectedly elegant engraving. It's more than he expected, though given the looks of Yuan's house, perhaps he should have known better. Kratos picks that up and leaves the rest of the clothes where they are, to be put away once he's figured out where the dresser might go.
[There's ribbons on the dresser, too. Kratos can't even begin to guess how he's meant to braid with those. He picks them up and exits the room, his gait awkward. In some ways he'd gotten used to not having something to lean on; having the stick makes it easier to walk, but reorients his weight and balance yet again.
[Still, he's moving better as he limps down the hall, ribbons in one hand, to look for any sign of Yuan. Provided he's awake yet.]
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[Sometime around dawn, he finally stirs. He doesn't snap awake, but eases into it in that way some soldiers have, where his mind puts things to order so he's already prepared by the time he awakens, without the heart-pounding jolt of suddenness. Even with that, Kratos stares up at the ceiling for a few moments, blinking.
[A few weeks is long enough to start expecting dank darkness on awakening, not a relatively soft cot, definitely soft blankets, and a remarkably blue ceiling. It takes Kratos a few moments to realise that the sheen is polished stone, like in the bathroom; and with that he remembers fully where he is, and why.
[The spare room isn't as well furnished as the bathroom, but it is better than the kitchen. ... And there seems to be a plant in this room as well, though at least that's less strange than in the bathroom. Maybe it helps with the atmosphere of the rooms without direct access to sunlight. One of the mirrors is tilted to prevent too much light as yet, but the rest are oriented to give the room the softly grey illumination of dawn.
[All of these thoughts occur with Kratos still lying flat; but once they've run their course he pushes himself upright, pulling his leg around. He isn't wearing clothes; he wonders with brief amusement how Yuan handled the transferring from bathtub to bed.
[There's clothes on a chair within arm's reach; the dresser is further way. Kratos will need to have a think about the layout of the room, it seems, though at least Yuan apparently realised the dresser's location is inconvenient. Getting dressed takes a while; Kratos hasn't been given any new clothes to change into, since being taken prisoner. It's one of those things he's not sure how to handle, where his leg is concerned.
[Still, he manages, and as Yuan said the day before, they're simple and undyed. Kratos fingers the fabric, tugging it right. It's lesser-quality cloth, compared to what he's accustomed to. He'll have to get used to that, too. Something he's never considered before. The stick is far more appreciated -- simple timber, polished, with an unexpectedly elegant engraving. It's more than he expected, though given the looks of Yuan's house, perhaps he should have known better. Kratos picks that up and leaves the rest of the clothes where they are, to be put away once he's figured out where the dresser might go.
[There's ribbons on the dresser, too. Kratos can't even begin to guess how he's meant to braid with those. He picks them up and exits the room, his gait awkward. In some ways he'd gotten used to not having something to lean on; having the stick makes it easier to walk, but reorients his weight and balance yet again.
[Still, he's moving better as he limps down the hall, ribbons in one hand, to look for any sign of Yuan. Provided he's awake yet.]