Arrow Lake There is a cat hovering in the men's bathroom at the radio station

sorry for this Big Lazy Delay omg

Dragomir straggled against her assault, but it wouldn’t be in vain, for it was with a breathy and low laugh that Aurëwen withdrew... only for her son to gum down at her scarred lip. A riddled, silver brow furrowed in incredulity, but the corners of her lips tugged up and up nonetheless. “Yeth, verwy fearsthome,” she slurred, giggles feathering up from her breast as she wriggled her nose even more against Drago. “Suth a spiwited little balaur. Suth strwength.”

As gently as she could, she eased her lip from the gums that clutched it, and instead swept her tongue under Drago’s chin and along his doughy jaw; a kiss of affection, but perhaps it would be something entirely the opposite within whatever he dreamed of. Stifling a yawn and a stretch, Aurëwen pressed their pink noses together, before nuzzling it into the boy’s mauvey flank.

Before the twins had mastered the winter to the Teekons, Aure had never let herself hope for children of her own. After their desecration, any rosy, girlish beliefs in her wild head absconded such miracles — the real and imaginative alike. But as she curved an ivory throat over the second, ever-precious night-of-her-life, each horror that had happened went from her. With Dragomir and Isilmë, there was only hope and love and light to be found; perfection.