"It's closer than mine," she replies, voice heavy and thick with the tightness of breath and its rapid ebbs and flows. Seas seeks out the skies reflected back at her, quickly noting the moisture that trickles down the lengths of his fingers. She offers something like a smile to mirror his own, and she vaguely wonders when the last time she'd even managed to endeavor such a thing had been. Everything preceding the feast feels like smoke - acrid, blinding, suffocating.

She belly-crawls her way out from underneath it, just a little - just enough to suck in clean air and let it begin to chip away at the soot in her chest.

Her eyes flinch at the tender touch of her cheek, so rarely having been shown such softness, such care in her young life. There's a quiet breath of nervous air that leaks out of her then, quickly stifled by the rejoining of mouths. She slides herself against and along the floor, ducking her head to avoid from hitting the edge of the table as she comes out from underneath, and reaches up for his hand, allowing them both to hoist her to her feet.