"You've never seen yourself as brave," he corrected. "But you do brave things. That makes you brave."
He sighed a little, settling back down, watching her. "I wish... I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," he mused quietly.
He laughed a little, brushing her hair back before his eyes widened and he sat up. "Actually... I think I could."
He paused before tilting his head a little. She had grown accustomed to him entering her head, but this one was a little different. It was more as if she were moving and he was staying put. After a few moments, images would flash in front of her mind's eye. Calliope is sitting in the library. She's chewing on some toast that Luce brought up for breakfast, and she's rolling her eyes at something that someone said. There is a light to her eyes that paints the edges of the scene warmly. Calliope is laughing deeply at a joke, standing by the windows of the conservatory. The setting sun catches her brown hair and she turns to look at the speaker, her green eyes subtle, but focused and alive. She is as beautiful as the sun falling below the horizon. Calliope is standing in front of him, taking his hands. Her frame is alert, but the eyes that study her know her well enough to catch the tightness in the way she holds herself. She's frightened, a fact that's confirmed by the sparkling tears in her eyes. She reaches out and kisses the speaker's cheek and again, that tightness and warmth returns to paint the scene, only this time it's tainted with sadness. The eyes watch as she leaves, taking the warmth with her. That's what happens when light leaves a room; everything else gets a little colder. Calliope is the first thing he sees when he wakes. She is sitting outside the cell, her knees pulled to her chest, and the speaker can tell that she's upset. Despite this, her face brightens a little, and his chest tightens a little when he sees her pink lips curve up into an affectionate smile. The shortness that she is insecure about does not translate as a weakness. Instead, she sees compactness to her frame. She is everything in one small package. She stands up and he thinks for a moment that he was put in the wrong cell again. Why is he struggling to breathe? Calliope is lying in the bed next to him, her hair framing her face against the clean, white, cotton pillow. She gives him a smile and once again, that warmth rushes back in at full force. Only this time, it stays. His hand reaches out to cup her jaw and it only strengthens as the sun begins to set over the horizon.
His eyes flickered open and he was frowning a little, but his face relaxed when he saw her. “Did that work?”
He squinted at her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "That's not the message you were supposed to get from that," he chided.
