Sileal [Gently, he corrects her pronunciation, and then soothes that small annoyance with a kiss.] I cannot hope for their compassion; they will see whatever they wish to see. So long as you see me as I am, then I am not alone.

[Though, in truth, he should be. At this hour, her face is bare of more than ink, clean and soft, and strangely intimate without the cosmetics. He wonders how many have seen her this, without her armor or warpaint. It was a flagrant, magnificent luxury, just to look at her.]

Come, vhenan. You must be weary; it has been... a very long day. Would you lie with me, to sleep? I... [Sleep, he abruptly realizes. Dreaming. The Fade. As dreamlike as this moment was, the question of sleep hung over him for more reasons than the unfamiliar mundanity of being together.] ...I would ask, only if you are willing. I do not know what will happen.

[He has never not been a mage, except for when he was not an elf at all. And he is afraid of what that means.]