Northstar Vale "Would you believe my faith if I gave it to you freely?"

Something inside her yearns at his words but no words are forthcoming - something broken within shifts painfully as his muzzle dances over her ivory auds, encouraging them to stand. A lump swells in her throat, preventing the vulnerable question on the tip of her tongue from tumbling into freedom. 

How do I know that you mean it? 

She had fallen for Kavik harshly, suddenly. There was no room for doubt in the intensity of her devotion to the Tonrar, no reason to suspect what lay beneath the veneer of a kind heart. Liri had trusted completely in the bond they shared and the pain of being cast aside, utterly forgotten, had nearly destroyed her. 

It would be some time before she could believe the compelling norseman would not vanish as so many others had before. 

Her eyes opened reluctantly as he pulled back - a weaker, wearier side of the healer shining through as the dark orbs begged him to return. She swallowed, pulling herself together; her ears flickered as the question left Vangard's lips though her eyes were slower to return. The pale fae could not be sure she had heard him correctly. 

"No," Leea answered softly, truthfully. Woodland optics searched, considering silently. Though Liri tried to find similarities between their two backgrounds it was abundantly clear that Vangard was unlike the tribal men. 

He was warm, involved, passionate. Men of the northlands did not display emotions in such manners nor were they as forward in their advances. More so, he was patient, gentle. Liri's father had been stern and brutish in comparison - it had not been uncommon for him to strike his pups when his anger grew too irate or his patience too slim. 

Vangard brought to mind no unpleasant memories of her past nor had she ever been frightened that he might hurt her - as she had with Sorin on occasion. 

When the raven was possessed by recollections of Livia, the healer had not thought it impossible that he might harm her. They shared a connection but Liri sensed it fading, their paths diverging. It was a bond forged between birds of clipped wings and the sylph intended to fly again. 

"I am afraid of me," she admitted, husky voice gone soft as the words fell like summer showers. "I don't trust myself. Not where it concerns you." They tumbled free of their own accord, betraying her as they pelted the atmosphere between the two wolves. 

Stretched upon the ground in a sphynx-like position, the Nord was eye level with the tiny fae. Her words hung suspended, revealing more than she had intended. 

The northron wavered, searching for some hint in his mismatched eyes - fire and ice - and seeming to find it, or perhaps she just hoped she had, her head dipped. Her paws fell on either side of his steely forelegs, pale crown bypassed his khol-lined lips for now as they were buried in the fur of his shadowy ruff. 

Her heart pounded an exhilerated but nervous beat for never even with Kavik had she been so forward. Leea dared to burrow her muzzle gently into his coat, freckled snout sweeping over the curve of his neck as she groomed him with reverent nuzzles. 

Each pass of her lips brought her ever upwards, an inching pace that would soon find her hovering near the corner of his mouth. 

The healer's tongue would dart out to rasp gently against the underside of his jaw - body curving to curl into the crook of his neck and chest given that she was not stopped by the Bjorkborn.