Moonspear champagne

Her silence drew out; he steeled himself for what he thought would be the inevitable outcome. She would rebuke him here, once and for all in spite of his transparency from the beginning. It seemed a great thunder cloud building on a distant horizon, culminating into a vast storm beneath wide seas that were never quite settled, but churning. He anticipated this like he did all things, ever opposite of positive and true to words that all good things must come to an end.

Instead the words that came at last were gentler than his expectations and surprisingly more interesting than the ire he had thought to receive. A compromise hastened in their wake and he found bridled elation build that she favored him enough not to be rid of his company yet. Dirge knew this was not an easy choice of words on her part, for perhaps even they both could tell that change was swift on mountain winds. It always came and it would soon, though those upheavals and abandonments came and went with every season. He understood these things to a degree, but with no desire to let them settle into dust on his earthy shoulders.

"Nothing would delight me more," he said then, unable to hide the smile that came to his face. He held no real desire to tear her away from what she felt she needed to keep; the heart wanted what it wanted, and no law or wolf could hold sway over it. He could take her to the coast with little more than company as fair trade, and the rest thereafter he decided he would figure out then. For now he would settle for this exchange, though there was work yet to be done ahead of them.

"I'll call for you when the time comes," he decided, feeling he could wait for her to put her affairs in order. The weather was not favorable yet and until he felt it was, he had little desire to pursue an adventure that ran a high risk of disaster out the gate. But here he was hesitant yet to depart her company, leaving conclusions or questions to her.