Northstar Vale oh, really? you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?

mara tuilë; andraste chirrups back at him her voice thick with the remaining vestiges of her long slumber. though his progression of learning valeian is slow melkor assumes, given the context, that it is some version of 'good morning' and tucks it away to practice later during his patrols when he's alone and he can stumble over its pronunciation without feeling the burn of embarrassment.

a soft chuckle rumbles in melkor's scarred throat at her words. ❝you were asleep every time i left,❞ he points out playfully and then adds, with a spark of mischief flaming to life in glacial irises as he adds, ❝you mean you didn't dream of me? i'm wounded —❞ he asks in mock hurt. he feels her against him as she tries to rise, watches her progression upon limbs weak and weary from such long slumber. 'be careful' almost comes from his lips but he bites it back. she is clearly aware of her uneasiness upon her legs as she uses him as a support beam.

as she readjusts her position, melkor watches as she lays back down and he shifts his weight upon their stonebed. ❝i am here, tonttu.❞ he tells her matter-of-factly, fighting against the smile that threatens to pull at his lips dumbly.