Dragoncrest Cliffs & all of the ghouls come out to play (mtr.)

wOOPS forgot a lil paragraph

Blood seared through her breast to her head, flourishing at the endearment: bounkola, bounkola. She wanted it pressed into her temple as he’d done before, and she wanted his breath on her jaw, and the weight of him on her coiled shoulders, too. But she kept herself as poised as she could possibly bear, even as his words massaged up up up the ridge of her spine like a lovers’ touch. How she wished.

If someone were to have moseyed on by and declared that she’d fallen in love, the not-opkepa would’ve surely packed on the salt into their wounds. She wasn’t in love; how could she be? She’d listened to the great romances of those who came before her, tangible or myth, looking into the eyes of northern bards from her haven. But... never felt it herself. Never believed the chance might provide itself—never allowed herself the courtesy of that possibility. And if love was what made her eyes shy from his own, made her feel so deliciously helpless, so completely vulnerable, she....

How was it that someone like him could have been drawn to her? He was the guard of Antumbra; she was... a once-heiress of her own haven who could scarcely defend herself. Nothing but frost and bone with a wispy pelt to top it off. It was one thing that he tended to be a dim-wit, supposedly, but he was also a natural heartthrob. And her heart was not immune— 

Yet she set her jaw, because it couldn’t be love, the thing that terrified her more than never seeing him again, and finally trailed over to where he was situated. The directness of his gaze already making her feel flighty, even more feverish as she came closer. Aure kept her eyes steadily, carefully upon his figure instead, keen to see how the rest of him had healed so far.

Placing chervil and webs down, she merely mused, ”Need to clean ze wound,” before leaning low, canting her head, and beginning to lavish her tongue along the raw hurt. ”You’re fooling yourself if you think I’ll forever think you sensible,” she breathed against his fur, pressing her tongue in just a bit more for effect while her muzzle faintly creased with incredulity. ”You...” Her breath came out shaky, unable to finish whatever it was she tried to snap at him. 

Just like last time, before he could reach her, she wrenched herself away with a sharp breath, and instead turned her attention to her roots and webs after packing the poultice into his wound; quivering.