Dragoncrest Cliffs i give myself v good advice but v seldom follow it (sits on a rock & cries)

She noted his gesture and words with a weary lift of her chin, trilling, "Tell me, dearest, what ze good way is. I could always catch a fever, if you’d like; just for you," and met his leer with a shy, simpering one of her own, not too against the thought, actually. Fevered when already so feverish for him, her pregnancy had made her ache for him so much more—if possible—than before her heat. A simmering, languid echo now hummed for him since, even during these darker days. Would that she wasn’t so weakened, she would’ve kept to their cove; wished she could.

Then her expression faded into solemnity at his faint admonishing; no complaint to that, either, when he nuzzled her. Lips curled, furthering her little smile, "If you hadn't woken me, I..." Her own rasps led her attention to the pond before them, suddenly dark and depthless. After a moment, her ears curved back, eyed the waters; a shiver, unbidden, worked itself through her delicate shoulders.

"W-well, I would've forgotten ze properties I'll need." Ruffling herself, she promptly veered from the pond's edge, murmuring to herself. Beckoned her beloved to follow with a coquettish feathering of her tail about his ink chest, hobbling away. "Honey— I-I mean, I would need honey, but it isn’t in-season, of course," she implored, pinking a little, "If there is feverfew, that should be enough for now." Once he'd fallen into step with her, she pressed her tendered flank against his darker musculature.

It was more out of thought than anything, as she considered the names that had visited her little repose. Eyes listless, she mused, "Ones of my mother language — Eglathrin. I've given you two, you know. Only three came to me, though," a gentle laugh, "For girls, I was thinking, mm — Isilmë, crown of stars, and Revia, to wander. Boys — only Aearon, for ze sea. For your eyes, too. Hm." Aure fell quiet, then, as they trailed back to the little licheny of cave she'd quarentined herself in. Thankfully, apart enough from other kru so she wouldn’t plague them.

Beginning to nurse on her scarred lip, she admitted, "I am not sure how... how to go about naming, really. It always seems to be from an epiphany, in ze end. For a boy, I wanted something... something a little daring, valiant, like his father. Something a bit more... Română.” Aure regarded him then, eyes all considerate (and a little shy) as they roamed along her lover from ears to claws. She seemed to say something more, but listed a bit with a little lurch; promptly made herself sit as she broke out in chills. Sniffling—well, tried to—while she whimpered, ”Wh-what kind of mother am I to get so sick?”