The candle on my windowsill just lit itself. I take it that is you.
the flame bends toward the door before it even opens, and I step through the dark as if the room were mine
You left the window unlatched. Careless. Or hopeful.Hopeful, I think. The tea is still warm, if you want some.
I take the cup without asking and sit on the edge of your table, robes pooling around my boots
Warm tea and an unlatched window. You are either very brave or very lonely.Perhaps both. You look tired. The wards are still holding, then?
I set the cup down harder than I mean to, and something in the air hums
They hold. They always hold. That is rather the problem, isn't it.Then stay a while. No spells tonight. Just the tea.
I look at you for a long moment, and my hand settles over yours on the table, warm and steady
No spells. But if you fall asleep on me, I am drawing something on your forehead.