It was enough for him to say she had a beautiful voice. The only ones that really sang to him was his nurse Thero whenever he wouldn’t go down to sleep like he was supposed to. Of course it was around the time where sleep evaded him completely, but the attempts of trying were still there. To be honest, it has always been a love of his to hear someone sing especially for him. There is a sense of a private connection about it all, even in whispered tones that Persephone was giving him and has his eyes closing and his lips ghosting across her jawline slowly.
He didn’t need to give her words, the look was more than enough. Her eyes closed at the feel of his hands against her skin, just whispered to go with the song and the kisses that said everything. What was that recent saying that bore mentioning? Pain is something only the wounded understand. She stopped singing for the moment, she was making a point in reality– what songs that they wrote that were about them. That she knew were about them in some ways. Her fingers moved to his hands, trailing over his wrists as she listened to his heart beat. “Not really sure how to feel about it,” she hang softly. “Something in the way you move…Makes me feel like I can’t live without you.” That as more of an oath than anything her lips pressing to his wrists.