Thot the cat bustles into a trot at the order, hurried along for the first shadowy recess that will absorb her, be it beneath furniture or clothing or the neighboring cot. Manners: minded.
Back in Fitchers bed, Silas drowses in the loop of his talisman, waiting to tuck his far foot beneath a rustled blanket until she’s already claimed the near. He looks to their crossed knees for a time before he looks back to her, no move made to shirk or draw away. A hitch at his shoulder tamps a pillow into a softer rest behind him. He shifts his hips, stifles a yawn, finds the belt of her robe lax between paired fingers.
They could talk about the war.
He drifts to the sound of the comb hissing in her hair instead, his eyes heavy-lidded between stretches of rest. It can be difficult to tell, with him, where relaxation ends and sleep begins. The eventual putter of a snore is a helpful clue.
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Date: 2021-08-17 07:07 am (UTC)Back in Fitchers bed, Silas drowses in the loop of his talisman, waiting to tuck his far foot beneath a rustled blanket until she’s already claimed the near. He looks to their crossed knees for a time before he looks back to her, no move made to shirk or draw away. A hitch at his shoulder tamps a pillow into a softer rest behind him. He shifts his hips, stifles a yawn, finds the belt of her robe lax between paired fingers.
They could talk about the war.
He drifts to the sound of the comb hissing in her hair instead, his eyes heavy-lidded between stretches of rest. It can be difficult to tell, with him, where relaxation ends and sleep begins. The eventual putter of a snore is a helpful clue.