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Alva Lorenz’s bed was not a place anyone tended to frequent. A workbench filled to capacity, a leather armchair, or the rest of the matching room were much more frequented choices by the figure in question.
Yet still, any contact can stick, and the remaining scent of the inventor wrapped the Night Watcher’s senses in a warm embrace. The world could be harsh, overwhelming and tiring. In this room, it wasn’t. The world went away. It wasn’t spacious- it wasn’t much of anything- but all of it was Alva, and to Ithaqua that was perfection itself.
For the inventor himself, accommodating someone else’s presence was a behavior he had vowed to renounce upon resurrection. Thankfully, the company of the Night Watcher did not usually require it. With that aside, Alva often found himself making exceptions for the other hunter, something he would’ve never done in life.
After Alva took his usual place in the armchair and snapping on the oil lamp, the other presence lifted his head.
“You’ve returned. It took a whole half hour later than i expected. What great tiny marvel of the world have you found to ponder this time?”
As expected.
“Nothing at all dearest. To not disturb your sleep, i wasted some time admiring nature. It was unfortunately far too tedious, at least today.” His tone was nonchalant and peaceful as he opened one of the many books on the side table.
“I wasn’t asleep, but thanks for the consideration.” Ithaqua’s clawed hands moved up to scratch his head as well as the cheek under his mask. The Hermit nodded “You usually are. Nothing i do is particularly noisy, but the door is rather loud when it closes.”
And then Alva returned to his reading. Not that the other could see, but Ithaqua’s mouth became downturned in discontent. Moving over to sit on the larger hunter’s lap, he shoved his face in the crook of the other’s neck.
“I’m glad you’re here.” The Night Watcher wrapped his arms around the other’s midsection. A small buzzing feeling filled his body as some of the electric charge the other carried jumped onto him. The hunter had never been one to like being touched, but if initiation was his choice, then he’d spend the rest of forever at his lover’s hip.
Alva moved his hand from the book to rest it on Ithaqua’s head. Their eyes met through the mask, a gentle gaze. Ithaqua had never removed his mask in all their time knowing each other, and Alva didn’t seem to care what his face looked like. Alva had nothing to do with that foul congregation, he would only see Ithaqua for himself, but habits were habits. And all of their shared or differing peculiarities were met with respect from each other unconditionally. It was what drew them close to begin with.
The dusk approached particularly fast. With neither corpse needing any form of sustenance, they were able to retain their positions for as long as they wished. The only sound that filled the air was the occasional turning of pages. If Alva were near his desk, a quill would occasionally be used to make a sort of note in the margin. Those were the times when Ithaqua wished his ability to read was much better. It wasn’t awful, but trying to piece apart the Hermit’s vocabulary was sometimes rough.
It didn’t take much time at all before the turning of pages stilled completely. Alva’s head was propped against the wall, and his eyes had closed softly. The Night Watcher gave a small smirk and moved to remove the book from the other’s
hand, snuffing off the light at the same time. Moving to grasp Alva’s hand in his own, he leaned in to the still frame and was embraced by its warmth.
“Good night, old man.”