61 A power deep inside

Silence lingers between us once more as we recline by the roses, wavering in the air and lingering densely in my ears, too uncomfortable, too heavy. I shift awkwardly.

Soren, however, in his usual lax and nonchalant attitude, seems entirely unbothered by it, leaning back with his hands behind his head, hair blowing up around him in a way that, had I the talent, I might have considered painting him- but even that wouldn't do justice to such a mesmerising scene.

He broods for a moment, listening to the trees blow up around us, closing his eyes and murmuring something on the base of his lips that my eyes are too unfocused to make out. The fairy on the lake has stopped dancing, instead returning to glean over the lilies floating in the centre of the pond. She does not seem to notice the dark shadows that fall over the lake. Hesitantly, I close my hand over Soren's.