“Yes,” he answered. He didn’t have a problem understanding her writing or the way she structured it. Her calculated reading voice and the fact they were linked emotionally allowed him to glean what he was supposed to feel, or rather, what she felt in the moment she was recalling. The longer they were bonded the deeper they were being connected and the easier it would be to come back from falters and slip ups. As it were, their bond was still young, much older than the one with Caesarion, but young in comparison to the one his mother shared with Lanna. Though they couldn’t read one another’s minds, they would arrive to the point of being able to communicate without speech altogether.

“I do,” he answered again. “I like kissing you.” Though he remembered Caesarion’s kisses as well, and it was the reason for him liking the action, the enjoyment he drew from Elann’s kisses was unparalleled and far outshined Caesarion’s own. Even if he were upset, either with her or not, a kiss could be rid of uncomfortableness and discomfort relatively quickly and easily with a simple action.

The next recitation came to his simmering delight. His eyes were on her again as his mind churned to produce the image she described, walking outside with the wagons and the fluffy clouds. He imagined himself over her as she walked, seeing the clouds more upclose and personal. She shifted to the mountains and he imagined those too, though at a much closer distance. Being in Zeltiva he could see them from the rooftops and feel the very cold breezes as they would blow down from that way from time to time when they weren’t blowing in from the bay. The squirrels and crow came next, of which he imagined as well, this time planting himself beside Elann in the memory as they both watched the squirrels chattering with their twitching tails and rapid movements, how they scampered up and down tree trunks, leaping from the branches to the next tree. He saw them go back down to the ground where the crow came and scared them away, probably attempting to either join in on the fun or terrorize the rodents for its own enjoyment.

Noah drew his arm in back to him and tucked it, bringing himself to roll over his good side to lie on his back, closer to her but not under the blanket like she was. He was still dressed in the trousers from yesterday’s evening. As he settled on his back his face contorted into that of a pained wince, his nose scrunching as his top lip curled up at an angle. 

With the two passages she had reinstilled his faith in the journal harboring goodness as well as otherwise darkly recounted memories, though they were written in the way of neutrality. He was feeling better inside, the image of the playing squirrels lifting his mood all the more. Noah brought his hand up and ran the back of his fingers softly against her arm.

“I like when you read to me too,” he said, his hand falling down over his chest, resting over where his heart beat. “It makes me happy.”

He lingered for a moment, looking up at her. “Kiss me.”