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The arm around her shoulder was unexpected but not unwelcome, and she leaned into him as they began walking, hastily, away from the battlefield and back to the supposed safety of the dorms. What should have been a silly suggestion sounded incredibly appealing. Blanket forts, such a juvenile endeavor, held a certain charm and comforting familiarity that was highly appealing at the moment.

Plus, she was pretty sure she'd heard him say something about pain killers.

Shaking fingers would find themselves caught in a small warm hand, and she gave those slender digits a gentle, reassuring squeeze as they walked. This was Solomon's first brush with the nightmares they were up against, she knew how he felt, she'd been there. It was a humbling, terrifying experience.

At least, she reflected silently, there had been no spiders, no skeletons. No great, vast, blank ocean attempting to swallow them up.

Small blessings.

She blinked up at him, having clearly not really considered their plan much beyond the initial idea of it. A thoughtful little frown rested like a pout on pale lips, and she weighed the options laid out for her carefully. "If we're going for a real, legit blanket fort then we'll need all the building material we can get. My rooms close, we can stop and get blankets, pillows, whatever." A change of clothes.

Now that she thought about it, she probably had some shirts that would probably hit the trainee beside her. Her preferred sleep wear ran high to over sized t-shirts, and her tastes had never really been terribly girly.

She let go of his hand so she could point in the direction of her room, then fished around in her pocket for the key. When they got close enough she slid out from under his arm so she could open the door and let him in. Automatically she kicked off the worn leather boots beside the door before heading to the closet. "Go ahead and strip the blankets off the bed."

Well that was quick.

The speed and skill with which he managed to strip her bed had been distracting enough that she'd forgotten what it was she had initially gone to the closet for, and she remembered only when he asked if there was anything else they needed. She eyed the make shift bag briefly, then turned back to the closet.

"I have something for you," she announced, digging one handed in the bottom drawer of the closet divider. When she straightened back up she had a paid of solid colored men's t-shirts in her hands. They were mediums, which meant they hit her peyton at around knee length. Perfect sleep wear. "Here, until you get more." The shirts, one white and one grey, were tossed at him before she returned her attention to the closet once more to retrieve another long shirt and a pair of jogging shorts.

There was a slight moment of awkwardness when she turned again, and the soft beginnings of another blush. "Um. You start heading back to your room. I'm gunna change real quick and catch up."

"I-" What? Didn't not want to see him naked? Didn't mean to offend? Didn't what? She didn't know, so she just shut the ******** right up on that point. It was safer not saying anything.

She was grateful when he caught the hint, and she assured him again that she'd be right behind him before he let himself out and closed the door. Changing was still a bit of a challenge, and sadly she probably could have used the help, but she wasn't about to strip down in front of a guy, even a friend. So instead she got to struggle. First out of the shirt she was already wearing, and then into the fresh one. There was much swearing, much wincing, and much sharp, pained breathes, but she eventually managed before slipping the sling back over her good shoulder and replacing her bad arm within it.

She'd also taken the time to remove the old bandages so her stitches could breath. The wound looked awful, running in jagged lines down beside her shoulder blade and past her collarbone, and it was haloed by dark, angry looking bruises.

The shorts were much easy to manage.

When she was done she jogged down the hall looking for the correct room number, and found the door open when she got there. Sol was already working on the foundation of the blanket fort, and just seeing it was enough to make the dainty Sun laugh. It was a good laugh, relieved.

He'd also changed into one of the shirts she'd given him. It fit nicely, and she gave the back of it a small pluck as she passed him. "Looks nice." She was pretty sure compliments to Sol would be taken graciously.

There was certain amount of staring when she saw his bed, but after a moment or two she just frowned and climbed up onto it. "Dare I ask about the cinder blocks?" She slipped her phone free of the waistband of her shorts. It was off, she always had it off, but she checked every night for messages. She'd do it before she actually went to sleep, but for now it was set aside.

His grand sweeping motion was enough to warrant an eye roll, but she was grinning despite herself anyways. "I never said they were mandatory, I just said you couldn't walk around Deus naked." There was a difference. She appreciated the attempt at defunkifying himself, though honestly she she didn't think he smelled bad to begin with.

Or maybe they all smelled a little off, and she was just used to it. Maybe.

It was hard to imagine the bed much higher. From her perch on the edge of it she was already a considerable distance from the floor. However she was considerably shorter then the majority of the island.. Leaning over, she tried to imagine being high enough up for a desk to fit comfortable beneath her. "You mean like a loft?" At one point in time her father had suggested something like that for her room, but they'd moved again before any plans had been followed through.

Her attention slid down to the blankets spread out on the floor. "Well, I mean we've already got a large, high up, stationary object we can use to drape the blankets over to create the sides." In indication she patted the mattress she was currently sitting on. "Anchor them up here, and on the floor, and half the works done already."

"A bunk desk," she repeated, trying hard not to smile despite the humor leaking through in her voice. She shook her head and rested her hand on the bed besides her, acutely aware that it had been quite some time since the last time she could remember smiling so much. This was nice. This was relaxing, and stress free, and there was no tiptoeing around. "Well so long as everyone's happy." Aren sounded interesting. From what little she'd heard of him/them.

Small feet were drawn up as he began tucking the sheet, and she'd shift herself so she could fold her legs beneath her to keep them out of the way while he worked on securing the sheet between the mattress and box springs.

"Well, you're still pretty knew, I could maybe fill you in on some of the stuff you don't know yet." A peek over the side of the bed not currently holding any sheets showed the ground a little further down then she thought it would be. "Or I could regale you with tales of heartache and woe from missions long past." A frown had settled on her lips as she spoke, and lavender eyes had narrowed down at the carpet below. "Can you give me a hand down. Getting up here was easy, but I'd rather not hurt myself worst then I already am climbing off a bed."

Pale brows shot up curiously as The other trainee's weapon seemed to garner enough control to hijack his vocal cords, and for a fleeting moment she had to wonder how terribly common that was and if she had to worry about Warrick taking control. The wraith demon gave a soft chuckle, and she frown frowned, thinking him a question before he reassured her that she was in control.

She was still frowning when Sol commented, but it faded when he stepped up on the cider block beside her. "Were you really? That's bad a**." She thought back over the movie, tried to remember those parts where a stuntman would be necessary. "Are you in the foreground, or background?" As he offered his arm up to her she wrapped her hand around it and slid to the edge of the bed. "Um, My pride says just a handrail, but I think I'd rather bruise that then do anything that might jostle my arm or shoulder."

Generally speaking she was a lot less careful then she was being, but her shoulder hurt, and she was in no hurry to ******** up the healing process. The sooner she got back use of her hand, the better. It really bothered her being out of commission. Made her feel weak, helpless, useless. All things she strove so hard to prove wrong.

"Shame, but that's still pretty bad a**." She gave a little squeak when she was so easily shifted onto his shoulder, and her grip on his arm tightened to the point of bruising as he began climbing down, despite the relative smoothness of the ride. A grip she maintained a few seconds after he'd set her on the ground so she could be sure of her balance.

It was perhaps wiser in the long run that she didn't rise to his madam president baiting. Instead she gave him a look, half amused and half annoyed, as she smoothed down her t-shirt unnecessarily.

She took the edge of the sheet when prompted, holding it about where she assumed she should be, and watched him finish tucking everything in. It was surprising how cathartic building a fort actually was for frazzled nerves, and she was smiling again when he paused to ask about communal furniture. "Yep, common rooms at either end of the hall. Filled with big squishy couches and chairs."