The morning air pressed faintly cool through the half-open window. Lucian had slipped back into silence with the night; the one who stirred awake beneath the covers was Vencian again. He rose slowly, rubbed his temple, and told himself the academy could wait. A pause after Deluos felt earned.
Quenya hovered by the curtain, tilting her head. "Skipping class already? Strange hour for a lord to begin his day."
"I am the lord of this house," he muttered. "If I want a quiet day, I will have it."
Her small arms crossed. "And that idleness has a purpose, does it?"
He gave her a short glance, mouth pressed thin. "Not everything needs to have some kind of purpose. I'm enjoying the uselessness of today, and readying my usefulness for tomorrow."
