She fills the void that followed him for centuries.
"Long day?"
Sesshoumaru closes the door to his apartment. "Long"—the glamor he wears day in and day out fades away—"is an inadequate descriptor."
Toeing off his shoes, he closes his eyes and tips his head back to the wall, the stress that suffocates him threatening to rage. But then, while reminding himself to breathe, fingertips glance over the markings on his cheek.
He looks down. "Miko?"
"This exhausts you."
Heavier now that it's said, he doesn't try to hide it as he turns his face into her touch. "Yes."
