[Zekarion blinks once against the light, turning a hard, miserable eye half towards them.
He'd been shaken from sleep by a nightmare, and it's clear in his exhausted posture. Hardly unusual, nor is the mood he's been drawn him into now, but until now he's not had a witness for it. At least not in some time.
Unlike with his ward, he doesn't bother putting on a reassuring mask.
He lets out a sound through his nose that's almost a single laugh. He turns back to the mirror, at the empty look on his own face more apparent in the light.]
... It won't do any good.
[Reaching out, he places the pads of his fingers against the clear surface, then the shadow spreads once more—and it's gone, too.]
no subject
He'd been shaken from sleep by a nightmare, and it's clear in his exhausted posture. Hardly unusual, nor is the mood he's been drawn him into now, but until now he's not had a witness for it. At least not in some time.
Unlike with his ward, he doesn't bother putting on a reassuring mask.
He lets out a sound through his nose that's almost a single laugh. He turns back to the mirror, at the empty look on his own face more apparent in the light.]
... It won't do any good.
[Reaching out, he places the pads of his fingers against the clear surface, then the shadow spreads once more—and it's gone, too.]