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Skillful hands carefully passing brush and fingers through the fur of his tail, his room full of the smell of the oils that were used to keep his fur healthy and clean, his ears would occasionally twitch when he got distracted by a sound from the outside but he was quick to return his focus to that of her attentive hands.
As she keep with her careful ministrations he could feel himself relaxing more and more.
Truth to be told, having hands that weren’t his grooming and taking care of his tail and fur was a new, sometimes strange but not unwelcomed experience. While he had never been like many other Beastels that he knows that would refuse anyone else from touching their tails and ears, and to those he held close to him, he would occasionally allow them a fleeting touch, or the occasional indulgence of petting him. He had taken the act of taking care of his fur as a chore that only he was allowed to do.
And no matter how close he was to someone the sole thought of allowing them to take part in something that tended to be long, personal and intimate made him uncomfortable.
Ever since he was young and thought himself mature enough to take care of himself he had believed that the care of his fur would be something that he would only allow to those that were more than close to him, he thought that maybe he would only allow it one day to the one he would call mate.
And so now ears after that, the wishful fantasies of his young self-have become a reality that as the days pass by, he only comes to love more and more.
Soon the previous silence is replaced by her low humming and he closes his eyes and allows himself to think of nothing but her hands and her voice singing softly in languages he doesn’t know.
Outside the world keeps on moving but right now he doesn’t concern himself with it, right now he just thinks about her, about them, about how they first met and how time changed and molded their relationship until the point where right now they stand at.
To a point on which he now lays all of his trust in her and she does the same. They are now destined to walk side by side, day after day.
Right now he just thinks about the way in which her hands, which he knows are a strong and powerful thing, able to bring end and destruction, are so careful with him, how they untangle and get rid of every single knot that is to be found on his fur all without causing him discomfort or having to pull in a way that brings pain.
It’s nice, and it’s even better than whatever fantasy he had managed to create when he had been younger.
To be able to trust in someone in the way he does now, having her right now so close to him, trusting her with something that previously none one else was allowed to.
He likes it.
It’s nice.
***
Considering that she’s someone who is always moving, always running, always going from one place to another, all in the search of answers, in the search of adventures, of fights, too many, it tends to come as a shock that she actually is able to sit down and enjoy long days spent doing little to nothing.
But to beings like her patience was a virtue that one needed to survive, sometimes some worlds would be more hectic and chaotic than others and after leaving them, being able to just sit down and lay to rest until they were ready was the only thing they could do.
But more than allowing herself some rest, it was more about being able to spend some time of calm and quiet solicitude alongside her brother. It was about simply sitting beside each other, forgetting about their adventures and just thinking about each other, it was about laying down on whatever surface they could find, then they would embrace each other and would simply rest, their eyes closed, libs interlacing, and nothing but the presence of the other.
It was about hours spent carefully running her fingers through Aether’s hair making sure that no tangle or knot remained on it, it was about forgetting how the other worlds perceived them, and as she would try different hairstyles or just play with his hair, think about how that was home.
She would spend hours in silence focused on nothing but her brother’s hair and she would think, ‘this is home’.
And so, the sole action of having her fingers pass through long strands of hair, brushing and taking out anything that had become tangled in it, soon had become one that she associated with home, something that she associated with family.
A family that has now walked away from her, a family that has decided that a senseless war against the heavens is more important than her.
But it doesn´t matter.
Because she has made herself a new one.
And as she hums songs from a world long gone, in a language that only she remembers she thinks of nothing but the feeling of fur passing through her fingers and the weight of the brush on her hand.
And as she keeps on brushing the allows the heaviness of all that she is carrying inside her to go away, she losses herself in the action of moving her hands in the same way for hours, and no matter for how long she has been doing it she never gets tired of it.
She had missed it, had missed the feeling of someone trusting in her in this way, had missed the intimacy that came with it, had missed the sensation, the movements.
She has missed it, and now she has it once again.
Outside the sun starts to set, and once she finishes what is to come is for both of them is to simply lay against each other their bodies intertwined to the point in which they become tangled with each other and rest, forgetting all about the world that waits for them outside.