Alone with her, pretense could be shed just as effortlessly as the vibrant shades he draped himself in. Affections so deep they gave way to this attraction and desire, stripping away at the frivolities that made up Raven's outward projection until he was reduced to heart and body alone; incomplete in equal measure. He sought completion through Zilyana, the mender of far more than his once tattered garb, and could they glow any hotter they might have seen this unity realized in the form of fusing like two hot irons. Witticism held no place in the non-existent space between them, nor did fanciful performance. Without these crutches, and perhaps especially before the woman of highest regard, vulnerability did dwell and nothing short of earnest intention could exist. Though open and unguarded for the elf, hesitance was nigh imperceptible with Raven having resigned himself to this lover's passion.