Above them the sky's chilled curtain of cloud had slipped - exposing a boastful moon that mirrored Tuwawi's own colours. There was no religious significance to this, however, Njal could not help but feel a presence as he basked in the glow. His platinum fur was lent a bare crimson tone, an orange that was unnerving in the same manner as it was charming. His eyes remained upon Tuwawi as she too came forth, refusing to look elsewhere.
Tuwawi was perfection. Bathed in the bloodlight, the fire that usually cast her body in such a palatable glow was now a menacing thing; bestial and triumphant. The man advanced upon her swiftly, unable to contain himself. He slid against her in passing, rough, crooning to her with a great need. Prior to this Njal had thought he would wait for her to approach him - to give her the power, the control over their future - but he found himself unable to stop himself. The man lifted and slid forth to grasp her, naturally folding her body close to his own. His chin rested atop her back and he rumbled greedily, shuffling with his rear legs so that he could perch himself across her and be ready for the plunge.
It was here that he waited, giving her a moment to reconsider if it was not the right time - but he knew, somehow, that they were of similar minds in these carnal moments.