The wistful cold kissed the delicate toes which slipped out from the warm blankets. Comfortable serenity clouded the room and not a single soul could resist being lured into the land of dreams such as one particular youth slumbering quietly. Silver hair messily spread out on the pure white pillows, cradling the head of the sleeping man. His lashes cast shadows on his unblemished face. Beauty laid before the light of the floating crystal which illuminated the room alone.
The room is dim. The lonely crystal on the bedside could not fully light up the bedroom. There was the sound of shuffling fabric as Moulin shifted. His lashes quivered until bright silver pupils peeked out between them. Although drowsy and sluggish, Moulin forced his body to awaken. His arm stretched out, reaching for the person who had long left his side. His fingers are splayed open, limp, and weary. Realization came to him and a frown etched his face.
