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Feiyn grumbles as Tevruden shifts under her, still reading his book. He’d just gotten to an interesting segment about siege tactics when Feiyn drowsily presses her face against the side of his neck. Without glancing down at the orc, he briefly touches the small of her back. “You’ve slept in all morning, Feiyn,” the death knight informs her. Feiyn only snuggles against him, wrapping her arms tighter around the elf.

“Mm… five more minutes,” the sniper slurs. Tevruden continues reading, timing in his head, but in five minutes’ time, she was too peaceful for him to disturb. He sighs, idly marking his place in his book before setting it aside. In a gesture that still feels alien, he strokes a hand through her hair and only then does the oddness fade. He will allow her all of the time in the world, if she wished it.

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