Elann spoke up, making Noah open his eyes to the world and the ceiling above him. At her bringing up the wound his hand went over to the edge of the closed cuts on his side, feeling around them. He had already considered it, knowing they would be a big deal to his mother. He peered at Elann from his prone position as she invaded his space, straddling over his lap before her hands were felt on his skin. The invasion wasn’t unwelcome, Noah sitting up slightly, propping himself up with his hands placed behind him on the bed. 

“I know. Don’t bring it up,” he told her. “My mother will make a fuss about it. Besides, she’ll be happier that I’m here and breathing than wanting to imagine me in danger. My father won’t care too much, he has a lot of scars and, to him, it just means I’ve grown up and gotten into a danger I had to survive. It’s… honorable to him because he spent longer in the wild than anyone before he met my mum.”

Noah left it at that, though the topic was open for Elann’s pursual. He wasn’t dismissive in her words or scolding for her bringing it up. He sat up further, resting his hands on Elann’s waist. They didn’t reside there for long, going to run up her sides and around the small of her back gently atop the fabric of her dress.

“You’re so small,” he whispered in Fratava, looking down as the hand at her side moved around her front, holding his palm over her tummy flatly. His gaze flicked back up to her, the hand on her back rounding over bottom and onto her thigh.