[ His hands remain beneath hers, lightly, until the last of the ice melts. The water catches within his open hands, rolling over the rim of his palm to cascade from his knuckles. His hands are not like hers. Whatever soothing Chroma generated by the contact does not mask the sand-rendered roughness of his skin. ]
Somnus. [ His gaze lifts, meeting hers evenly. What he happens to see in them are not reflected in his: he was born, he died, a human man.
He doesn't move, but appears to be waiting with a wordless question of her name in return. ]
no subject
Somnus. [ His gaze lifts, meeting hers evenly. What he happens to see in them are not reflected in his: he was born, he died, a human man.
He doesn't move, but appears to be waiting with a wordless question of her name in return. ]