The mallet was surprisingly heavy in Alias's hands. Each time he lifted it to help Theo align the rough cedar posts, the physical vibration traveled up his slender arms, rattling his collarbones.
It was a grounding sensation, a violent reminder of the mass and friction of the mortal world. He threw himself into the task with a silent, hyper-focused energy, his silver hair tied back with a scrap of linen to keep it out of his face.
Theo watched him from the corner of his eye, his chest heaving as he hammered the stakes deep into the dry earth. Despite the gravity of the previous day, a small, involuntary smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth whenever Alias gave an exceptionally enthusiastic swing.
