Zephariel picks Yuri up and perches the gleeful boy on his shoulders, holding him securely with his strong arms. His rough, nimble fingers tickle the boy until Yuri screams for mercy. His eyes glance at Yoru's place by the ceiling-high windows; two glimmering azure orbs are brimming with calculation.
"What did you talk with Yoru, sweet boy of mine?" He teases, half in jest, half in earnest.
"Nuh-uh. Nothing." Yuri evades the question, playing with Zephariel's half-opened sleeping gown. "It's weird. You're always so easy to put on muscles. I can't get this toned no matter how hard I try." He pouts.
"Awe. But you are much stronger than I am." Zephariel croons in his creepy baby voice, hoarse from just waking up. "But what did Yoru talk to you?"
"Nuh-uh. Nothing." Yuri vehemently shakes his head, trying once more to digress from the topic. "I have a bunch of violets from the garden, but they are all withered."
