This was the usual Urag, he always ended up in her bed somehow.
She could swear he had never once used his own; even back then, it had felt too natural, too ordinary to question.
The weight of him beside her, the quiet sound of his breathing, the warmth he carried, all of it had been familiar for so long that it felt almost like part of her nightly routine.
Eiravyne slowly turned to face him, her hair brushing against his chest, and in the faint shimmer of moonlight that slipped through the curtains, his purple eyes glowed faintly.
They were calm, half-lidded, watching her with a softness.
He leaned in, their noses brushing, and a faint smirk curved his lips.
"Not asleep anymore?" he murmured, voice low enough to make her breath catch.
Then, without waiting for her to answer, he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.
His nose grazed her skin as he breathed her in, slow, steady, almost reverent.
