It seemed like the worse was over, and Zephyrus was glad for it. He was the instigator for many a storms and he knew that although he enjoyed the wildness of it, how many ripped through the houses, it was the gentle winds he gave that were most enjoyable. It was the same for the sometimes rocky relationship between himself and his wife, it seemed. But in the end, he was glad that she always took him back again. If no one else understood him, with the exception of his family, Iris would be it.
His eyes closed when she touched his face, himself internally longing for such a touch that was soft and caring. Zephyrus' own hand reached up to hold that hand in place, eyes still closed and all he cared about was the simple touch and warmth of it.