Bramblepoint one for sorrow

Permission from Stevie for teh booties.

At his words, she moved towards him despite herself— she had longed for him, and so much had gone wrong since they had last seen each other, she couldn't imagine that they'd get any worse. And so Magpie kissed him, running her tongue along the edges of his muzzle and across his cheek. She had made the first move that day so long ago, and she didn't stop to question it now— if he had a mate, if he wanted this or if it were even wise in her condition. The Corvidae had always leaped without looking, to her detriment, and after everything, it seemed that wouldn't change now.

His reaction told her all that she needed to know, and before long they were intertwined. She let him take control, showing him teeth only when her broken body rebelled against the pain, and he would adjust to a more gentle pace until passion took them both again. Her weakened state limited what she could do, but Summer didn't seem to mind; indeed, he seemed to outright enjoy the control he held over her. And Magpie enjoyed that, too— the ability to lose herself in him, to obey what he desired of her.

When they were done, they lay quietly together for a time— until Summer asked that she come with him. To leave the Wilds that had so broken her. When she refused, his voice grew louder and harsher— but she could not, for she could only heal by conquering this place in turn. She thought she would feel something when he turned away coldly— that was certainly what he wanted, to punish her— but Magpie felt nothing. She had no expectations left.

"Thank you, Summer," she said quietly when he had gone.