The Restalia moon is made up entirely of jungleland, and hasn't been inhabited in at least two thousand years. Whether its occupants went to another Realm or just died off, Den doesn't know or care. Restalia is one of the places he can go to be alone, and therefore it's one of his favorite places.

He even built himself a treehouse there a few centuries ago, and it's to that treehouse that his portals decide to take Yesmine. They've been for days--a week at least, perhaps longer, Den isn't sure--and she's finally succumbed to the exhaustion. Den leaves her sleeping in his bed and goes to the window, staring out at the pale green sky and the planet visible in the atmosphere. Black cliffs rise from thick green foliage, the whole world coated in mist and the buzz that comes from living things.

Insects hum, monkeys call to each other, and there are birds of every size and shape--not one of them a type that can be found in his home world of Zar--everywhere.

For a world that doesn't have an ocean, Restalia is beautiful.

Den stands at the window and manifests a cup of thick, dark coffee, slowly drinking the substance along with the heavy, cool air from the glassless window.

For all he knows, Den stands there for days.

Time has little meaning to him, hasn't in hundreds of thousands of years. What is time? It's pointless, and has no effect on him.

Regardless, he doesn't move until he hears Yesmine begin to stir amidst the silk sheets, and then it's only a slight turn so he can see her--red hair splayed across the white pillows, slate gray sheets tangled around her.

She sits up and yawns, stretching her arms above her head. Den manifests another cup of coffee and holds it toward her.

"Morning."

Yesmine stumbles out of his bed, one hand keeping the sheet tucked around herself, and wanders across the carved wood floorboards with a sleepy expression. He chuckles, waiting until she's wrapped both hands around the mug before he lets go. He knows her propensity for spilling coffee.

"Thank you," she murmurs, half asleep still.

Den simply nods, ruffling her hair before looking out the window again. Once she's drained half the cup, Yesmine starts wandering around, trailing her hands over the minimal furniture--all hand-carved--and the smooth wood walls curiously. There's a staircase on the other side of the bed, and without a word, she wanders up it. Den finds himself amused, knowing what she'll find.

On the level above them--the only other level of the treehouse--the roof opens into the mossy, vine covered branches, creating a balcony of sorts. The view is breathtaking, as it's much higher than his current vantage point, the entire treehouse having been carved on the inside of the trunk. The kitchen is up there as well, tucked into the branches.

Decorations are almost nonexistent, aside from the natural tones and whorls of the wood, and the chairs, tables, counters, and vine-etched railings Den carved himself.

He really doesn't come here often enough, he decides.

Though what possessed him to bring Yesmine here--to a place no other living creature has been--he has no idea.

It's been a very long time since he actually liked someone, legitimately enjoyed their company.

Most people--especially women--bore him after a matter of hours.

He can hear Yesmine moving around upstairs, but Den remains at the bedroom window, staring out at the quiet jungle.

After a while, Yesmine returns to the bedroom, coming to stand beside him. She leans her head against Den's shoulder, and he finds himself mildly surprised by the gesture of affection.

Affection, stars.

Something no one has shown him in... a very long time. Mainly because he doesn't let them get close enough.

Maybe he should remedy that.

"Are people missing you?" He asks, quietly. He doesn't let himself wonder why he wants her to say no.

She makes a thoughtful noise. "My dad is probably wondering where I am by now."

"You need to go home," Den agrees, staring out at the grayish planet looming in the green and blue sky.

"Would it make me an awful person if I said I didn't want to?"

"Probably as awful as it makes me for wanting you to stay," Den says.

He feels her eyes on him, her head still against his shoulder. "I mean, I could just go and assure him and my mother that I'm okay and come back..." she suggests softly, almost unsurely.

Den looks down at her, something inside him going as still as the heavy air hanging over the jungle. "You'd... want to?"

Yesmine bites her bottom lip. "Well... yes... if you... if you want me to."

"You don't really know anything about me," he says, still quietly.

"You don't know all that much about me either..." she says, as softly as before, tentative.

Den is quiet for a moment. "The last time I... stayed..." he looks back out over the jungle. "They killed her."

Yesmine reaches for his hand, squeezes tightly. "You said they weren't around anymore..."

"They aren't. But I don't... I watched her die, Yesmine. I loved her more than I have ever loved anything. I don't..." he looks down at her, brows furrowed. "I don't know if I'm capable of loving you the way you deserve. I don't know... I don't know if I can love anymore."

Yesmine smiles softly. "You don't have to fall in love with me. We'll just work on your talking thing."

Den cracks a smile, can't help but huff a little laugh that isn't really a laugh, but is trying to be. "I'm a horrible student."

"It's okay. I'm a patient teacher."

Den looks at her for a long moment, and he doesn't quite know what to say. He isn't sure that he wants to learn to live again.

Though he supposes that after five hundred thousand years, it's time to give it a chance.

He looks down at their hands, and wonders when the last time was... when he last just held someone's hand.

Den turns his hand over and laces his fingers with hers.

"Life," he says softly, "is not often kind to me."

Yesmine kisses his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm kind, so life can suck it."

Den laughs a little, and when he kisses her, it feels like what he's supposed to be doing.

What he wants to be doing.