Sleepy Fox Hollow lächeln

It was almost physically painful to pull away from Mahler when most of her being thrummed with remembrance of a dream, but that was all it was, after all—a dream. A realm within the mind free of consequence. In a dream she could ensure that his plans for the season were thrown to the wayside in favour of her, possessive beast that she was, and she was untouchable. In real life, Wylla had no control over such things, and it was the lack of control that ultimately drove her to nudge his shoulder one last time before putting a more proper amount of distance between them.

It was of utmost important that she be able to resist, and ever-present was her guilt for the entire situation—she hadn't meant to develop feelings, but it was happening. Hers still had nothing on his, though, and she didn't want to rush things to the point of wanting to flee from it all.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as nervousness filled the space between them, and then she asked—because she had to ask, to confirm her suspicions more than anything—your plans for the spring are still the same? Because if they had changed, then maybe that would change things for her present hesitancy, too... but she didn't think they had.