She almost says 'don't worry', but manages to catch herself in time. Positive phrasings are better for this.

"I'm right here with you," she says instead. "I'll take the next watch. All you have to do right now is look into the crystal. You can just let that tension leave you, washed away by the blue."

The world is blurring around the edges. The walls of reality are thin, here; the air hums with power. It would be so easy to change it, to summon drowsiness into being where before it was not: with a word, a thought, a gesture--

--a focus--

She isn't quite sure whether she nods, or if she only thinks of nodding. She's floating in the beautiful blue depths, her whole awareness filled with it, and it's hard to keep track of such minor things as whether her head moved.

Kedri recognises that pattern of blinking.

"It's alright," she says. "The crystal has served you well, guided you where you needed to go. You'll meet again another time. It's alright to part ways for now and close your eyes and sleep."

Her eyes slip shut, and she starts to tip forward.

Kedri catches her and leans her backward instead, into Kedri's arms.

"I think you'll be much more comfortable this way."

Kedri makes an excellent point. It's hard to imagine being more comfortable than this.

Except...

Without the crystal drawing her attention, she notices how very turned on she is right now.

Her back arches; she bucks instinctively against nothing. Her clitoris pulses insistently, demanding pressure.

She sets it aside. There will be other days to indulge her body.

Today, she snuggles down into the drowsiness, and lets the unfed arousal fade.

Sex might be tempting in the moment, but the satisfaction of this runs far deeper. She is whole, here, her soul suffused with blissful rest. Every part of her being longs for this, it is the warp on which her soul is woven; and now, it is here.

(A flicker of memory: slipping away at the library as a child to go and read sex-ed books aimed at sleep-sex convergents, books that went beyond the basics of the general sex-ed books at home. She felt too awkward, back then, to ask her parents for them, to speak openly about it.

Her father accidentally walked in on her once, out in the woods reading a checked-out library book. He saw her awkwardness at the secret let out, and he laughed--not unkindly--and said that they knew. They'd known since before she'd even quickened: since she was an infant just old enough to comprehend what lullabies were for, just old enough to scream in instinctive protest at the thought of interacting that way with kin.

Everyone knows what it means, when a child screams at lullabies like that.

(Tenida had never really paid much mind to the fact that her parents never sang their children lullabies. It was just normal, to her.)

They'd have bought her the books themselves, but they knew she'd be more comfortable asking a librarian for them. They didn't ask questions, when she slipped away.)

She's come a long way since then. It's been a long time since she took the first halting steps of a girl who'd just read an introductory guide to sleep-meditation: the skill is part of her, now.

It is, more than anything else, an act of will. One can simply choose.

She chooses to set down her wakefulness for a while, to drift away into the warmth of her wife's embrace. She is safely ensconced in the privacy of their bedroom, and even if anyone did interrupt them, Kedri could handle it. She can let the part of her always monitoring the situation settle into dormant quiet, and let go completely.

Tenida is so beautiful like this. There's something profound, Kedri thinks, about feeling her wife go loose and limp against her; hearing her slow, even breaths. About knowing that Tenida trusts her to keep her safe, and about being worthy of that trust.

She pets Tenida's hair for a bit.