Whitebark Stream rotten apples

Princess, truly - whispers of honey soaked intoxicated thoughts, tugged along on seraphic daydreams of tranquility; everything about her presence was soothing, even as steps begged to pull him away. Into the confidentiality of fog he'd have dissolved... until, of course-

"Staaaaaay."

Plea; demand - he cared naught what it was, but movements stilled in frantic escape, and a chiselled jaw was inclined back to face the woman. Viridescent gems met seas of a setting day, glacé, endearing. A sigh, soft in departure from blackened lips, and then to her side he returned, maw quirking in reposeful acceptance. One time - surely, it could not hurt... and besides, much worse a crime it would be to leave her alone in the winter's turmoil. Slowly, a smoky visage pivoted to the sky, and his body lowered to rest beside her own.

"I'm here."

--admonitions forgotten.