[He rises, lifting her up in his arms as he does so, to carry her towards the left wing of his castle. The room is large and ornate, with blackwood and ivory furniture and silk drapery. Nightflowers bloom near the window, crawling up and around the crevices, the only real color. He has candles on the bedside table, and a tapestry over his bed that holds moving galaxies in monochromatic colors. On the bedside table as well are, of course, some books.
He sets her down on his bed, featherlight cushions that smell of sand and time, settling himself next to her.]
no subject
He sets her down on his bed, featherlight cushions that smell of sand and time, settling himself next to her.]
Better than the throne room?