[Music plays; Sieghart sleeps. As much as the waking world tugs at his consciousness, he clings to the comfort of slumber as he shifts, tightening his arms around the strangely firm yet soft pillow in front of him.]
Mm . . .
[Something tickles his cheek. Ah, who cares? Opening his eyes would take too much energy. He continues to be dead to the world as his hand absently comes up to pat that person on the head, stroking soft ha—person?
no subject
Mm . . .
[Something tickles his cheek. Ah, who cares? Opening his eyes would take too much energy. He continues to be dead to the world as his hand absently comes up to pat that person on the head, stroking soft ha—person?
Head?]