It’s dark. It’s finally, blissfully, pleasantly, comfortingly dark. Every other time Leo had found himself in the Evergreens it had been ‘daytime’, or some interpretation of it, complete with the blazingly-bright sun that didn’t fail to give him a headache if he spent too much time under its unerring gaze.
Sure, it was interesting to see what the world looked like when it was lit with sunlight and not subdued moonlight. The colours were different. The textures seemed brighter, bolder. All the same, he was still Nohrian, and still more accustomed to the dark than he ever would be the light.
Leo tilts his head back, looking up at the sky. It’s dotted with stars, constellations that seem at once familiar and foreign. The air is cool, the breeze is sweet, ruffling his hair and the edges of his cape.
He’s currently perched upon a large rock sitting in the middle of a field of tall grass. One leg is drawn close to his chest while the other hangs down, the toe of his boot nearly touching the ground.
He directs his gaze to the forests around him, cautious, hesitant.
Confident that he is, for the moment, alone, he looks back up at the sky.
It starts off as a low hum, tuneless, directionless. It’s soft, but grows in strength, gains melody, gains purpose and words.
And then, Leo is singing.
“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam
And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you’ll do
You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream….”
He isn’t terrible either. In fact, he’s quite good, if audibly unpracticed. His voice wavers as it tires, straying from the correct pitch before it finds its way back. It’s from one of those ballads that Elise so sorely loves, something that he’s heard her sing, so many times over. It reminds him of home, of his family, of the meaningless little moments when he feels part of something (however fleeting those moments may be).
