Whether it is the hands in his hair or the story itself, the comforting lilt of her voice- Zevran finds himself soothed by the whole of it. Curled tight like this on his side he feels smaller, safer- with eyes he knows he can trust to mind their surroundings? He lets his own drift closed. The story is nothing more than white noise after awhile, but he retains the sentiment and the patter. There are hints here he cannot begin to dig at, truths he can't unearth just yet. But later when he is more himself, when he is better able to understand and twist this about to solve the puzzle that is Beleth? He will act on it.

For now he drifts, slowly floating down to sleep.

It feels like it has been forever since he was allowed to actually sleep.