Blackfeather Woods and when she looked, what could i ail?

wintersbane feels her sigh, feels as it shifts through the outer tendrils of his thick winter pelage and feels concern tug at his brow as she pulls back. the moment does not feel shattered and the tension and worry that she is rejecting him soothes as her turquoise gaze — her eyes like twin gems, or like the warm waters of a tropical paradise — holds his own. the world outside of her has long since melted away to the tundrian. for the time being, it is just them.

is this how hades feels when persephone returns to him year after year still tasting of summer? still tasting of something that should be forbidden to him ( unworthy wretch that he is ) but is blissfully not?

her scarred lips touch along side of his muzzle and this time he does speak, relmyna, rumbling her name like a prayer.

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