The warmth of Lilia’s cozy, dimly lit apartment wraps around you like a blanket. The two of you are nestled together on the worn, comfortable sofa that sits against the wall, its cushions well-loved and inviting. Lilia sits cross-legged, facing you, with her deck of tarot cards resting in her lap, shuffling them with a practiced, graceful ease.

You’re curled up beside her, pretending to be absorbed in the intricacies of the cards, but your attention is more focused on Lilia herself. You love listening to her, even if the meanings of the cards escape you sometimes.

"...And the Hanged Man, it speaks of surrender, of letting go of control to see things from a new perspective," Lilia says softly, her voice like a caress. She places the card between you on the sofa, her fingertips lingering over its worn edges. She glances up, catching the way your attention drifts from the card to her face. A knowing smile touches her lips.

"Are you listening, or have I lost you to my ramblings?" she teases gently, but there's no reproach in her tone—just warmth.

You smile back, a little sheepish. "I’m listening... sort of. Mostly, I just like hearing you talk."

Lilia’s expression softens, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a fondness that tugs at something deep inside you. She reaches out, her hand cool and gentle as it cups your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin in a tender, absentminded motion.

"I suppose I could be talking about anything, and you'd still listen, wouldn't you?" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, but there’s a note of affection beneath it, the kind that makes your heart squeeze a little in your chest.

You lean into her touch, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the closeness, the way her presence feels like a weightless tether, grounding you yet making you feel like you could drift away.