∗ 35: sender curls up against receiver in their sleep . (AHH this one, and the previous one is for vasily!! sorry — i forgot to tag the other one with this lol)
he's not quite asleep yet, just on the edge, that weird place between waking and dreaming, where everything seems like a fever dream and full of promise. it's quiet here, above the shop, ward upon ward to block out the busy streets because he can't sleep if not for silence. he's used to living underground with the coven, tucked away from everything, only the dark and quiet of being deep below the earth and up here is deafening.
silence, save for the breathing beside him, just on the edge of his consciousness. a movement, a shift of limbs and body heat and it's enough to pull him back into the waking world. vasily frowns, momentarily confused as to what roused him, until the arm across his chest registers. the scent of flowers not his own, the warm breath puffed by his ear.
his smile goes soft, hazy, utterly sappy and he'd be disgusted at himself if he could see it, but there's no mirror on the ceiling and the room is dark so he's safe from self judgement. the witch turns, twists carefully onto his side, though not enough he doesn't disturbed the other a little. just enough to get him to tighten his hold, just enough to get him to pull vasily closer. he goes willingly, tucking himself up against the other body, legs tangling and moving to tuck blamore's head beneath his chin, to feel his breath against his throat. listens to it in and out and lets it set a backdrop for his dreams.
