Emberwood and it hurts my soul

Pygmalion allowed himself to preen slightly, pleased with the response. I'm glad, he murmured, and let her melt into him as he sat, proud and tall and happy as hell. He chuckled at her description (the end of it, anyway). Aye, she is a great deal larger than you. But most everyone is, ye wee beauty.

He sighed slightly, shifting a little. It's as if whatever power made ye wanted to pack as much good into as small of a being as possible, he mused softly. For what ye lack in size, Bhediya, ye make up for it in spirit. I'm surprised yer heart can even fit inside yer chest.

Pyg felt it beating, the steady ebb and flow and pulse of blood. Did it beat for him, this moment? He wondered how large it really was—and strong, or delicate? He thought the former.