[ there's something about his smile that she can't put a finger on, that she wants to erase from his expression or face. but since she can't do the latter, lumine simply pulls her hands from his grasp and cups his face. fingers mold easily against his cheek, familiar as always, and her thumbs trace away anything else underscoring his expression. any person, thing or what. ]

Almost a day.

[ it can't be helped, considering what was done to him. and it isn't as if the explosion in the aftermath of the god's death made things better either. ]

You had a concussion, and Zhongli said that god may have done something more when it pulled your soul out ... Are you sure you don't need more rest?