The rain pounds against the roof, moody and sullen in its swiftness. The window's partly open, and on the desk beside it flickers a candle with a flame that shrinks and grows by the spicks and spacks of the drops that snake their way through the cracked pane and onto the weathered wick. Eco takes a good, long look at the dark scene, then sits himself at the desk, dips a quill in ink and begins to write on slightly dampened paper. Skrtch-skrtch; the scratchy cacophony if siybds beguns, and soon a bundle in the bed nearby stirs. Belca blearily looks out from his cocoon of blankets, yawns, and tries to shake the sleep from his eyes.
Eco looks over his shoulder, smiles at the sleepy prince, and gives him a little wave.
"Did I wake you up? Sorry~"
"No, it's... Why are you up so late?"
"I just got in and I wanted to write a little bit before I went to bed."
Belca's starting to really wake up now; Eco can tell by the way he starts to frown and sit up while keeping the blankets as they were. He ends up on his elbows, hands plastered to either side of his face and thumbs hooking around the back of his jaw.
"Where were you?"
"On the town. Don't worry~ I didn't do anythng to call attention to myself."
Belca doesn't believe that - Eco can see it written on his face - but he doesn't call him out on it (now, at least; it's much too late to deal with Eco's whines and 'cuteness').
"Go to bed if you've been up all night."
Eco hesitates, glancing at his book and running his thumb over almost-dried ink - then shuts it and tucks the quill into the space beside the worn journal. He mosies over to the bed and sneaks in, leaning against Belca, who sighs irritatedly and reluctantly fives up some of his cocoon for Eco to share. It's quiet, with only the softer pounding of rain for a lullaby, amidst the sounds of Eco stretching out and getting comfortable (legs crossing legs, clothes shifting against sheets and skin, climbing higher until it's pushed down again) and Eco makes sure Belca's almost asleep before lightly tapping him on the shoulder.
The sleepy sound answers him, and Belca turns around to stare, face scrunched quizziacally, if tired. Eco's fingers search for and find the royal primseed and play with it, tangling and untangling in the beads and jewels, curling and uncurling every so often to stroke the underside of Belca's cheek.
"What if I'm not who you think I am?"
A pause, a lull; it stretches on until Eco starts to think the prince has fallen asleep until he feels Belca's familiar, if confused, scowl press against his shoulder.
"Eco is Eco. So don't... say stupid things like that. Good night."
Eco doesn't reply; he's a little surprised, to be honest, and he doesn't answer until Belca tugs insistently on his collar's ribbon. That's when he smiles down at the mess of dark hair curled against his side sullenly and moves his hand to play with the soft locks instead. Belca's voice is still insistent, and he peeks up to make sure Eco hears him this time.
"Hm? Oh... Good night, Belca. Sweet dreams."
"You too... I guess."
Belca's eyes immediately shut in within a matter of minutes his breathing's eased out, the rise and fall of his chest almost going in beat to the slowly subsiding rain. Eco doesn't fall asleep until the first bird begins to call for the sun to start its daily rise, lost in thought.