Hadrian stares at the young man sitting on the bed. The youth is graced with serene beauty, as lovely as moonlight. Long silvery hair wavy like sea waves. Silver eyes, radiant and stunning. The world is a blur with him as its center, bright and resplendent like a dazzling white diamond. At the moment, he looked drowsy, drained of energy. The healers said that his recovery would take some time. Perhaps, a few days. Hadrian would give him all the time in the world if it meant that Moulin would be fully healed.
For now, he'll stay in bed for a few days. Their departure from Artheia was near.
Slowly, Hadrian approached Moulin. His golden eyes never strayed away from him.
Moulin's eyes softened, but internally, he felt a wave of anxiety. Is he alright? How many injuries does he have? Shouldn't he be recovering too?
