Shadow Mountain dig so deep for scars

He was given a gift, a sweet and sour curve of flavors that seized his mind as he seized that hide, seized that flesh, seized that drink of courtship. It hit the tongue like ice to his fire, melting and soothing that manic jitter, all the while igniting near complacency in the Warlock. Kelina has a pact made with him, just that fast. Should it be redeemed by tendencies that even the most savage would shield themselves from? Should he forgo his whimsical terror on the few he passed, just to see what melodious massacres the two might birth, together? 

Absolutely.

So at her pardon, S’crow cut the amplitude of his frenzy to silence as he pulled free of her immediate proximity. 
Tall auds faced her as he watched her intently. He said nothing while his interest was solely upon her doings. 

“There’s so much work to do, Kelina...” he confirmed his prospect of the world around them. The place was unfit for the misfits, and the Spirits were not pleased. Despair was not prevalent here, and much would need to correct that.
But with the voice that was Kelina, he would be forced to stay with her until she had joined the many in his mind. 
He had no other choice...

He was hers until she was his.