When Arabella's shoelaces came undone, she sighed softly and bent down, meaning to fix them herself. The training ground had fell silent, everyone waiting for the fight to commence only for her to raise her hand, telling them to pause for a moment as she noticed her undone shoes. She was halfway to looping the lace into a bow when a shadow fell across her hands.
Before she could straighten, Morpheus crouched down before her, his snowy white robe pooling elegantly around him as he knelt. His pale fingers brushed against her shoes, almost too gently, as he took the laces from her hands and began to tie them with careful precision.
The sight might have appeared gentle, even intimate, to all the sorcerers watching over, some even began to whistle. His head was slightly bowed, his touch tender, as though he were doing something meaningful.
