Shadowwyn Moor its the soul that needs the surgery

Eshe thought nothing of Riordan when with Scimitar, and the same could be said the other way around... but, to be certain, she felt differently affectionate toward the both of them. The way she felt truly could only be known by exploring them, and the different circumstances surrounding the both of them meant nothing to the woman who was in all other things a realist. Scimitar made her believe in things she never thought possible, and he was the first to do so. Even still, Riordan—who she felt bashful around—had not yet risen to the level of feelings that surfaced around Scimitar... she felt strangely sure with him that she had found something good and right... like perhaps he could be "the one". She had been told about "the one", but had never believed it. Her father had spoken of love at first sight, and Eshe and Bhreac had (at the time she had thought appropriately) laughed.

Well, the man was surely laughing in his grave now.

Of course, she knew nothing of love... just that when she looked at this stranger, she felt a loyalty different to any other, one that would make her forget all else (bar her sister) and run away with him, darnit!

Her tail waved as he gained on her. She attempted to pick up her own pace, but her legs were gooey beneath her... fortunately, she remained upright and running, laughing excitedly as he drew nearer, the volume of his own paws heard over the light dance of her own that grazed across the earth. Was she flying?