Chapter 23 THE START THE PROSE THE DEISRE

• "Done!" I mumble after bandaging his wounds. They are healing just fine, gladly. At least none of them looks infected or adamant about healing. In about a week he should be fine.
• "Thank you." He asserts as I amble back to him after returning the first aid kit.
• I angle myself in front of him, scanning for any trace of change in him, and sure, he doesn't look dismal and dull like he has always been since I met him. The cold look on his face is still so permanent, but I think I have been with him enough to distinguish his physical features from masks. The icy demeanour is his nature. A beautiful one, I must say. It exudes both ice and fire. It exhibits boldness and authority. I am glad that the masks are not so evident right now, and I hope they fade away completely and for good.