Alatir looked out of the window, watching the children play in the garden, unseen guarded by spells woven into the walls, and by the caretakers who went after their daily tasks.
Just then a silvery chiming sound dragged him out of his musings and he went to take the cauldron from the stove, extinguishing the magical flame.
This was still a task he wanted to do on his own, maybe because it gave him peace and quietness.
Even after all this time with Dorian, getting much more social, he needed those moments for himself, brooding over his thoughts.
When the dark amber liquid had been filled evenly into the phioles, he no longer had any reason to stay up in his laboratory. During the hours he had barricaded himself up there, the yearning had grown to see the two loves of his life again.
Not that it curbed the same desire that grew again over time, to give himself some solitude.
It was like the tides of the sea, tied together, one following the other.