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    Summary

    It's strange: you expect him to be cold, yet his hand is warm as though imbued with the hum of life. You feel the busy whirr of servos, intricate cogs, and steam-power underneath his chassis. The swell of aether surges through him, a terrible reminder of what feeds a Primal's existence.

    Joke summary: Ordained Stillness wipes everyone but you, Perfect Alexander and you catch feelings. You start grinding and going forward and back and then forward and back—

    Playing my power move and writing the first Alexander/WoL fic on AO3

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