[Warm. Sypha's always warm, and to have her leaning on him like this is just a perfect little touch of warmth to compliment the room. It was always warm here, in all the strange little ways that no one would ever expect his father's bedroom to be. (Or for it to have a bed in the first place.) It's impossible not to wrap his arm around Sypha's middle, tugging her just that tiniest bit closer.]

It is always easier to build up a mythology when the little details are obscured.

[But Sypha knows that. She knows stories better than the other two, how they work, why they work. Because that's about intent too, isn't it? Just like magic.]

It'll be the same in a century for us.