Noah turned his head to the right, looking at the lump in the blankets that was Elann. Last night she was quiet, voicing a few things, but remained particularly soft spoken. He enjoyed the moment they had last night until Elann voiced she was too cold to continue it. Maybe it was because he was allowed to think and be in his own mind while being with her at the same time, or maybe it was because he was seemingly allowed to forget about their fight. Now in the morning, he thought about it and found the wound to be fresh and painful, dully aching, hardly felt, but unable to be stitched like his worldly scratches.

Noah rolled onto his left side, edging himself towards Elann until he was pressed against her. His right hand slowly shifted the blankets so that he, too, was beneath them, her hair in his face. The same hand came back down to delicately drape over her waist, fingers lightly grazing across her abdomen. He took a breath, her hair’s smell coming into his nostrils, and he was content with sleeping a little longer. Unless Elann commented on his shifting, he was falling on away.

The Kelvic’s thoughts wandered to his nightmare. He hadn’t been asked about it, but was unsure if he wanted to be. The contents, he felt, could damage what he considered an already fragile relationship. There was a tiny fear in him that, if divulged, it would hurt Elann. Seeing as that was unfavorable for now, he stayed quiet on it and hoped it wouldn’t haunt him again.