Two wide green eyes opened lazily as Lysael yawned loudly. Rolling over and sitting up, he stretched and leaned back, rubbing his eyes as he did so. For a brief moment, his face was clearly visible, as was the darkened remains of his horn. The moment passed, and Lysael's hair shifted to hang forward over his eyes again as he looked around the room furtively.
Mara was still asleep. Good. He'd no desire to face her, not after last night's argument. She'd pushed him, prodded him, and finally provoked him into exploding at her. It'd been too late to go stomping out, so he'd resorted to hurling himself into the bed and throwing the blankets over his head. He knew he'd looked like a child throwing a tantrum, but hadn't cared at the time.
Now... Once Mara woke, he'd be subjected to those concerned looks of hers, those worried words. Lysael didn't want to deal with it now.
And so, he washed and dressed quickly. A pair of dark brown pants, a faded blue vest, and a pair of black boots made up today's clothing. A few minutes later, Lys left the inn, his hair and tail still slightly damp, and paused just outside the door, blinking in the sunlight. Why did he have the feeling that today wasn't going to be one of the better days?
...The lecture he'd get from Mara might be it. Whatever. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and glared at the street, letting his silvery-white hair hang over his face as usual.
