Hushed Willows black in the magic, beauty in the tragic

Watchfully, “Stockholm,” Coelacanth breathed, measuring out each syllable with infinite care. The brief stiffening of her mouth was residual defensiveness from her brief altercation with the Earthstalker and not necessarily deserved by poor Aditya, but she wanted the golden-eyed male to know her mate’s name by heart, just as she knew the names of those dearest to him.

A thrill danced down her spine at the mix of fire and earth that Aditya embodied; he was all steely muscles and soft heartstrings, fierce fangs and kind eyes. The line of his jaw was strength incarnate, but he curled his tongue so gently to cradle his alluring, uniquely multilingual cant. She ought to have answered his question or at least thanked him for his compassion, but she found herself distracted. “You know?” she whispered, nibbling at his cheek fur and then sitting back to place her paw against it. No soot this time, but the memory pleased her regardless.

“Adi,” she sighed, her breath winnowing through the fur at the base of his ear as she drew away and returned to him, curling her body around one of the willow’s long tendrils and nosing the underside of his chin. She felt so strange! She wanted to be close to him, but not too close — she wanted to see Catori, but she wanted to stay here — she wanted, she didn’t want, she fretted, she refused to be soothed. I mean, was he sure she wasn’t sick? She kind of felt like she was.