Something in the background noise of whatever 'reality' this is tugs at his senses when he notices the look in her eyes, the desire and want that she's projecting in her gaze.

Skellig cocks his head slightly when he realizes it is an echo.
Of what exactly, he is not sure. Past? Present? Future?

"Kreyu," he repeats. It is softer. Familiar. He barely notices that he is moving his hands from her wrists, one falling to her waist as he shifts his bodyweight to change how he is sitting, the other moving to cup her jawline, pulling her in to him, taking the initiative to bring her close for a kiss.