Day 0,   “I think the real trial is leaving you for a year.” The Seer would say sleepily, curled up against the side of his mate.  Lysanthir only hummed in response, thin fingers running through Cecil’s hair. He paused for a moment and allowed his hand to lace with Cecil’s own, giving a small squeeze. “It will be fine.” The Elf says in a low rumble. Cecil responded with a small noise in the back of his throat, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his mate’s words.