Ishamael did little aside from brush his hair and sing softly to himself. He could see her in the mirror even as he brushed his hair. Soft music without words crept about the room on the snowy evening.

Weialala leia
Wallala leialala

The snow fell softly as he stood from his seat and straightened his dressing gown. The soft song, like one a parent would sing to a child still on his lips.

Weialala leia
Wallala leialala