Blearily he stared at the dancing flames crackling merrily in the grate. He’d been alone most of the day and found himself quite bored..and tired. Moreso than if he’d been actively spending time with someone. Sighing softly, Dark curled up at the end of the large sofa he now occupied and curled under his blanket. Perhaps sleep would do him good…if only there were no nightmares to wake him. Laying on his side he continued watching sleepily, hoping beyond hope that oblivion would take him soon.
Silently the mighty King of Midgard strode up behind the place where his nose had carried him; a familiar scent lying upon the softness of the cushions. Kneeling down upon the golden floor beside the sofa, his armour creaking the only sound within the room to accompany the ember-ridden fire in its song. A gentle hand the old god raised to stroke over his mirror’s brow, sliding the hair from his face.