@lapisdex -- ;
The sun rose slow and sweet, Al-Haytham's eyes squeezing reflexively shut as if to bat away the slow, inevitable fingers of the morning dawn. Within their shared room, sometimes it was easy for the Scribe to forget where he was, lodged so deep in the doldrums of sleep that his mind could wander wherever it fancied. Tracing his fingers along the vertebrae of Zhongli's spine, he smiled dozily to himself.
"Did you flinch, Habibi?"













