Frostfire Ridge half a life to rewrite

As the silence stretched on between them, Tezcacoatl was patient, of course, but internally preparing himself for the rejection, for the breach that would be the Trojan horse within his vulnerable self. It would hurt, but it wouldn't have been anything he couldn't overcome, and as he'd told her: he wouldn't have held it against her. Tezcacoatl understood what she was going through. He might not have known (not really) so therefore he could not sympathize but he'd been there with her the day she'd defied every expectation he'd had and rejected Njal, chasing her mate off as opposed to taking him back as Tezcacoatl had thought she'd have done. He couldn't understand whatever turmoil his words might have caused her, but he afforded her the patience that she needed, regardless. Tezcacoatl could only assume that it was probably hard. He hadn't experienced this kind of thing before with the seriousness that he felt now. Boyhood crushes (or girlfriends) had been fleeting, as they'd been meant to be; and at first Tezcacoatl had thought he'd harbored just a crush on Tuwawi. If it had been such it would have burned out when she was absent from the Wilds, but it hadn't. He'd been able to push it aside to focus on founding Frostfire Ridge but it'd been there all the while, flickering like a defiant flame he wasn't able to smother.

Tuwawi looked away, and Tezcacoatl's shoulders steeled as his heart beat rapidly within it's prison of flesh and bone, dreading the next few seconds as they dragged on. Here it comes, he'd always known it was a possibility, and had resolved himself to it for the sake of knowing the stakes, but he wasn't sure he was ready for the rejection, regardless.

Yet, Tuwawi did not breach the silence; no words of rejection fell from her lips. As his heart hammered hard enough to make him fear it would pound right out of his chest, it stuttered once as he drew a sharp, surprised breath and held it when he felt the press of her head against his shoulder. The terse set of his shoulders relaxed when he felt the burrow of her muzzle into his fur, the breath he'd been holding released. No words were needed, the gesture was clear enough, even though he still felt surprise thrumming through every tendril of his fur. Surprise mixed with something else, relief? Jubilation? He grew warm around his muzzle, as he took another breath, soft and nearly inaudible this time. “We'll take it as slow as you want,” Tezcacoatl spoke softly, promising. He had no intentions of pushing her, and he had no reason not to let her adjust at her own pace. Not that it wouldn't be an adjustment for him, because this was all new to him, but he was determined to prove that he was worth her affections. All his blabbing still made him feel a little bit like an idiot, but Nochtli'd been right: it felt good to get it off his chest, and better still that his affections did not go without reciprocation.