Bramblepoint medusa and hemlock

he chuckled as peregrine declared him 'gay;' in olden times, this had meant something quite different than its current context. "not so gay!" he crooned, arching a brow, but nodded at the sable wolf's assessment all the same. "we are very fine indeed." the flower did not detract from peregrine so much as stand aside as sunny spot of colour among the proud darkness of his coat. "would that i could make a wreath for your head," he teased, eyes warm. "this shall have to suffice."