Title: Winds
Characters: Lumen and Cicero
Summary: It's just fluff.
"Cicero is cold," the Keeper complains and scoots closer to the fire-pit. Lumen does not respond. Instead she remains focused on cramming wolf pelts beneath the front door in a desperate attempt to keep the frigid winds of the Pale from blowing inside. "Cicero cannot feel his toes," he continues, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. "Or his rear."
Behind him, he can hear Lumen mutter something under her breath, and he smiles to himself when she abandons her futile task to see to him. He watches her as she yanks a heavy, wool blanket from her bed. The reckless action sends a small, decorative pillow flying to the floor. But it is forgotten when Lumen drapes the blanket across his shoulders.
He opens his mouth to thank her, but falls silent when she sits beside him to share her blanket and her warmth. His heart races when she slips an arm around him, and pulls him closer with the other. Those hands, which have broken bones and snuffed out so many lives, are deceptively gentle as she guides him to lay his head upon her shoulder. Lumen rests her cheek against the top of his head, her fingers idly playing with strands of his hair, and poor, frozen Cicero could not be happier.
Heat spreads throughout his chest when she begins to quietly hum. But Cicero can hardly hear the tune above the howling winds, and he places his gloved hand against her throat, hoping to feel her voice if he can't hear it. Lumen stops for only a moment, and he's terrified that she'll push him away, but to his surprise she begins to hum again - louder this time.
Cicero cherishes these moments with his Listener, who seldom shows him affection without complaint. She only initiates it when the world is dark and all are asleep, when there are no witnesses to the rare moments when she is completely open.
When she is his.