He's never been one to fuck and run, so to speak, but a strange, tender feeling now seeps into Azwel's soul, and he has no idea why it's there. And yet... somehow it belongs there. It has him kissing Carden, his lips slow and soft, his fingers twining gently in the younger man's hair. He looks down at Carden, his gaze blissful and a bit unfocussed, the way it always got in his afterglow--the look that only comes with everything unwound.

Even the silence of the room feels better than it has any right to do--and it is very silent apart from the two of them. The ambient noise of any kind of modern city, so easily ignored, is conspicuously absent, here. There isn't even the sound of waves....

Azwel blinks slowly. "I... remember the seaside...."