Dragoncrest Cliffs i gotta get mine, i gotta get it

When he’d simmered down for the moment, she lingered several heartbeats so she could hear what he needed to say; ears flickered back, and her pale throat worked in a tiny gulp. There was truth in that she needn’t cry for him anymore — she’d done as much in the waning, blue hours between eve and dawn, cradling the silly bit of quartz Opalia’d foraged away for her.

Verx was alive, in the sense that his heart still beat, yes, but... also not living; this rumination trailed after her as she retrieved what she needed for him through muscle memory alone. The earlier protests of the opkepa and the dark gona had only heckled at her; made her riled enough to withdraw from the both of them. Aure herself had assumed a more reclusive stance as she’d toiled over a solider of theirs.

Returning to him and settling down once more, her silver brow furrowed as she began to edge for the dressing. A moment before she proceeded, though, she murmured to him with spiced-stale breath, ”You are still a champion in my eyes, Verx.” Regardless of it all, it was the cheka whose body had answered the work done to bring him back; and with Dacio’s aid, Aure had merely supplied the remedies. Pressing a soft kiss to his dark temple — a familiar, almost-forgotten gesture of his-to-her — she cherished this lapse, until she withdrew to resume her work.

Aure pulled the dressings off with as much care as she could. Still, the mashed webs and poultice stuck to the flesh, coming away with a soft crackling of dried blood. Droplets of fresh blood oozed around the edges of the marring, but thankfully, it looked to be healing well. Nosing against the raw skin, scenting for any infection and finding none, she set about washing once more.

After some time, the gruesome part was done, and she pulled away to inspect her work. Once another poultice and a firm, breathable dressing, Aure would be finished. As she turned to ready moss and garlic, though, she cast her beloved a fleeting, almost shy curl of lips, ”I’ve been meaning to tell you — I’ve chosen names for our copii.”

Ours. The word chimed in her breast, as bright and sweet as a bell, and she quickly focused on her properties. Ears curved back further; definitely shy, even when there was no reason for her to be.