The curtains rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, like a heart breathing beneath fabric, each wave carried playfully by the winter breeze pouring in from outside. It was an autumn breeze and everywhere was chilly.
Right in the room where the curtains draped over a ceiling-to-floor window was Simma, sprawled under his bed sheets.
It was not the restless sleep he was used to, haunted by fragments of memories and nightmares. No, this was the kind of smooth, delicious sleep that clung to him like honey on the tongue. In fact, he doubted that anyone's dreams could compete with the luxury of his own.
Buzz-buzz-buzz....
came his phone as his alarm rang.Slowly, he opened his eyes. As he spun around in his bed, stretching, he got up and checked his schedule, which said that the newly recruited Azrens were called upon in the great hall.
"Aw," he murmured. Clearly, he wanted to go back to that so smooth sleep. He held his temple.
