The Sunspire the world was on fire

There was something raw about this conversation—the sylph could feel it, and she had the very distinct impression that it could very well lead to an equally raw heartache. He looked at her imploringly—a gaze she had not only ever received from him before, but one she had never seen him offer another. She knew nothing of his mild trysts or flirtations—in fact, she had never witnessed him in the embrace or touch of another, though their own moments were private as it were.
 
“You don’t mention a mate in there,” she murmured, her voice soft, and yet she would be direct to the point. Had she known of his promise to Takiyok, she would have shut down the intimacy of their moments immediately. So little did she know she was making a fool of herself.
 
Instead, she dared to allow gleaming jewel eyes to study his face, to consider his reaction to what she was about to bring so brazenly forward. “I had thought to try to make you jealous by giving attention to Thorn…or even Mahler.” Tilting her muzzle to the side, she could feel the flutter of nervousness in her chest, the admissions she was about to give him. “But I don’t like to play games. Not anymore…They come with a heavy price.” Such as loving the ones you could have loved. “So I ask you, Stigmata…Not to play games with me, either. Diaspora is fresh, yet strong. You will have generations on these mountains...but by whom do you hope they come from?”