The moon is fables and soothing tones, scented candles and tea; he is the quiet ticking of the clock and the cool touch of soft sheets in the summer.
He sits by her head (reluctantly at first) and reads to her, making her feel like a little kid again. He insists there's no age limit for bedtime stories, and that there's always something to be learned in them.
His stories are usually long but fascinating, comprising obscure fairy tales, legends and myths. She finds it to be a shame when she eventually falls asleep, usually long before the story is over. He says he doesn't mind, and always picks up at the point she last recalls, patiently recapitulating for her.
The stories in and of themselves aren't exactly her favorite part of his bedtime ritual though. It's not even the calm he brings when he steps into her room, or the sense of security his presence provides.
No, her favorite part is being close and seeing that unguarded side of him. It's waiting for that moment when relaxes enough for his free hand to wander away from his lap, taping her forehead lightly or idly caressing the crown of her head, showing a gentleness that is at odds with his usual demeanor.
Sometimes, he even lets himself be pulled out of the book to answer her questions, and when she's feeling bold, really bold, she'll ask him to share something personal. It was a battle of wills and stubbornness that finally got him to relent, but now, with every night that passes, it's becoming easier to get him to share more of himself.
She wonders if this is the real him, the person he doesn't let anyone else see during daylight. Someone willing to share under the right circumstances, but usually too scared to go poking at his scars in fear the wounds might suddenly open again.
She doesn't mind too much that he needs that dark side to protect himself, his secrets and his fears, as long as she's allowed to share some of his burden now and then. Maybe one day, she'll find the way to help him overcome his shadows.
For now it's enough to be this close, to feel his idle touch, and share the occasional candle-lit smile with him.