voice. | sylvain

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the night was quiet.

the stars twinkled in the sky, the clouds floated aimlessly past, the lanterns on the monastery walls flickered with the gentle breeze.

the night was quiet.

no footsteps were heard from late night snackers, no hoots from the occasional owl. it was a welcomed change compared to the commotion of the seemingly never-ending war.

the night was quiet.

except for sylvain's room.

you laid with your red headed lover on the bed, his head resting against your chest as your fingers carded through his hair. his hand splayed across your stomach, relishing the soft fabric of your pajamas.

you took a small breath, beginning the next verse of a small faerghus lullaby. sylvain's eyes stayed shut as his head shifted further into the crook of your neck. your cheek rested against him, your voice growing slightly softer as you tried to lull your lover to sleep.

it was rare, these times.

it was rare that you'd get to lay with him and appreciate the joys of life. it was rare to even see the joys when every day was full of the horrors of war.

but tonight, those thoughts were far from your mind. the only thoughts in your head were those of how lucky you were.

how lucky you were to be alive. how lucky you were to have the man you loved alive. how lucky you were to even have him at all.

but then again, maybe it isn't luck. maybe it was simply love. something akin to fate.

whatever it was, you loved it. you loved your life. you loved him.

and as you continued to sing to him- thinking he was asleep- he smiled. because he loved you too.

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