Chapter 24: What We Don’t Say
Rowan's feet were rocking side to side on his desk, his hands laid behind his head to allow himself the most relaxed posture possible.
The dim that overcame the room from the night sky and left only the purple glow from the ceilings gave it an ethereal, otherworldly aesthetic, calming his mind in the same ways silence and poem allow.
The silence wasn't total, however, the shallow breaths of the guard outside allowing himself just enough stimulus to not suffer sensory deprivation, although it was still enough to shrill a sharp ring in his ear--his mind trying to make up for it.
Patter, patter, patter!
Someone's feet slammed against the ground as they grasped for air, running as if there were a marathon of people approaching them.
It completely caught Rowan off-guard, causing his neck to snap in the direction of the sound, even holding onto his grimoire off of pure instinct before hastily putting it back down.
At the same time, he could hear the faint speech from his guard, stepping a few feet from his door and resting his shoulders against the wall with a light thud.
As soon as the door creaked open, Rowan stood up, the taut in his limbs easing as soon as he saw who it was.
It was Liora, wearing a white, loose nightgown and frizzled hair popping from her scalp.
Obviously, she'd just gotten up from her bed, rubbing her eyes with a sluggish drowse.
"Hey, Rowan," she said, closing the door behind her, "having a hard time sleeping like me?"