Drifus didn't look. He didn't try to feel. He emptied his mind and meditated.
Except it was nearly impossible.
Whenever he thought he wasn't feeling… her warmth pressed against him. Her scent tickled at his nose. Her soft embrace only dug into, no, he dug into her skin. Was he bruising her? Was he hurting her?
He had to look. He had to-
Ah… he couldn't look away.
Lenora didn't have sharp features. She didn't look as elegant as elves or even highborn ladies Drifus was acquainted with. She looked ordinary by comparison. But that look, that look of pure determination as they flew through the clouds, it was far too imperfect for him to look away. She was determined but she was also unsure and Drifus could tell. But because her look was imperfect, it drew him in. He'd forgotten about the bruising; he'd forgotten about where he even was. Enough to put a finger down her cheek and- what am I doing?
