He is content in her touches, allows them, permits them- for whatever tattered piece of his soul remains takes some semblance of pleasure from her touch- in whatever way it may be said he is given to feel true pleasure or joy. If even it exists for him. His form lowers readily to the earth, tumbling upon the long, dark and damp grass as he it rubs upon his blackened back and soothes the itch beneath his thickened pelt and offers to all whom may observe a rarely seen moment of serenity for a creature doomed to wander the decrepit expanse of his ruined mind. He lays upon his back, peaceful, eyes of reptilian green staring upwards with blank and unfathomable cold as if he sees nothing and yet all in that singular moment. Why one paw reaches for his imprint cannot be said, it merely extends to bat against her nose, for surely it has entered his vision and as such he responds as instinct demands by allowing his paw to collide with it in what appears to be a desire to instigate touch though it lasts only a moment. He falls silent once more, staring, form cast in darkened stillness as his gaze lingers upward still and rasping words fall from his lips though what they mean cannot truly be said as the syllables faded into the silent expanse of the ebony night and impending gloom of midnight as clouds sweep across what small pallor the moon had offered- plunging the pair into a darkness more true. It is soothing to him in a way the light of the sun never is. He is given to loath the heat and its burning caress that heats his ebony pelt until he pants and burns within his own pelt and the light revels him within the shadows he hides and allows his prey to escape. The sun is a vile thing, a hateful thing, the Black Prince content only within the black embrace of the eve itself and it is this contentment, perhaps, that allows his form to recline now in a moment so truly rare.
She of Scars extends her own paw then, reaching for him, pressing it upon his nose in a manner that achieves little more than a sudden and abrupt sneeze, lips crinkling within the corners in some sense of dissatisfaction at this sound that is forced from himself at her touch though he offers no reaction beyond it, allows her to do it, for his belly is full tonight and the demons do no hiss and roar so terribly as to cause an ache of need within him. His mind is clearer tonight, his rage soothed- though for how long it will last cannot be said. Her form lowers suddenly then, as she speaks, one ear turned towards her, responding to the sound of her voice though whether he understands what she says can hardly be known. He understands little, his mind no longer bothered to attempt to process so much of what is said, the desire of a child to try, to be as those around him- so long ago having fled within the son of Dimitri. He understands so little of the world around him, his mind no longer bothered to drive itself to frustration and rage at the sounds of words. He no longer tries to perceive, no longer truly cares- if ever he did, though the sound of her voice reaches him all the same, the tone of it not….unpleasant to him and as such he remains content as she rests suddenly beside him.
That handsome head of blackened oblivion rolls, turning, eyes of emerald green fixating upon her as she lays beside him and that shred of tattered soul that she holds hums with satisfaction at her closeness though he himself does not understand such a gesture or the desire to linger so close to another. Her form is relaxed, calm, no tautness to her muscle and as such he is soothed further still, willing to accept her presence, a snort of dismissal offered in acceptance of her place beside him. He has no reason to move her, so he will not- that mere scrap of him which remains capable of acknowledgement of another life content in her company as she speaks once more. Those fathomless green eyes roll once more, pointed skyward now, though whether he understands she speaks of the sky or merely follows her gaze remains unknown. She speaks of white dots and he remains silent, emotionless, staring with unblinking ease at the sky above for several moments and silence ensnares them once more. Her paw lifts, pointing, several moments more passing before his own paw lifts in a silent mimic of her actions though his eyes remains fixated ahead.
“Stars.”
He repeats the word suddenly, voice rasping as always, damaged throat grating the word harshly as he offers it. It is a new word perhaps, one he has seized on.
“Not……see….stars.”
His tongue slides from his jaws, sweeping across them now, his words….seemingly cryptic, though such is not his way nor intention, the male incapable of thought upon a level so deep, more so hi vocabulary is limited though what he means remains obtuse still. Whether he cannot see the stars, else he does not desire to see them remains entirely to be questioned as his eyes remains fixated still on the sky above.