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It's too dark to see anything, but he can still hear the sea in the distance.
Corvos hair is soft, and, as the Outsider runs his hands through it, he feels... content.
A moment of peace. Boring, predictable peace, but he finds himself wishing it doesn't end.
Corvo stirs as he hears the first notes of a hummed melody, but stays put, with his head resting on the deity's chest. The words are unfamiliar and, no matter how he tries, he doesn't recognize them.
He stops trying not long after.
The Outsiders voice is quiet, his words sometimes drowning in the distant sound of waves, and Corvo doesn't remember the last time he felt so-...
But he does remember, and wishes he didn't.
- What do the words mean? - he asks without thinking, and regrets it when the melody softly comes to an end.
The Outsider doesn't speak for a while.
- Does it matter? - he answers, after about a couple dozen waves hit the shore, and Corvo shrugs; buries his face in the deity's neck; sighs in relief when the hands in his hair start moving again.
- It's a lullaby, - the god says after the silence stretches - one forgotten by time, and even the finest scholars wouldn't recognize it's words.
There's a hint of homesickness, or… sadness in his voice, but Corvo can't be sure.
He doesn't know how to answer; doesn't think it matters; nods and counts the waves, instead.
The rhythm sounds like a heartbeat, and, for all he knows, it may as well be.
He finds it comforting.
The Outsider starts humming again, his hands moving in unison with the sea, and Corvo thinks that he could spend an eternity, laying like that.
Thinks that even as his neck starts to hurt because of their position.
He doesn't voice it as he falls asleep.
The god doesn't stop humming even as he feels Corvo’s breath even out; doesn't want to.
It's too dark to see anything, and he can still remember the sea and the night he first heard the words he sings now.
Corvo’s hair is soft, and the Outsider thinks that he will remember this night, too.