Greatwater Lake wrapped them in "I don't owe you a damn thing"

The wyvern regards him a moment, everpresent smile tugging at her lips. Her frosted diadem cants vaguely, translucent wisps dancing, opalites squinting as she playfully assesses him. "It vill," she murmurs assuredly at last, kind smile widening. Adding after a beat, "Ye seem like a good leader."

Seeing the invitation in the ulsaruk's honeyed gaze, the waif disregards inhibition for once - denouncing her internal rules for the night. Without hesitation, the fae pads to his side and curls against his broad side, curling her head against the dip of his shoulder blade. 

Her wit dries on her tongue at his returning inquiry - damning herself for not thinking that he might wonder. 

"Do nae laugh, Donav," the dove warns softly against his fur (grateful that he can't see her face), though it sounds more like a plea. 

"I vould like ta know a real love once before I leave zis vorld." There's a nervous chuckle hidden in her quickened breath - as if even she knows that it's silly. 

Ta belong and 'ave someone ta belong ta. I vould like ta zink it's nae too late for zat.

"I vas married once. An' a mother. But it vas nae real." This was all she gave in whispered explanation. "I vould like ta try again, vith someone...real." She couldn't find the right words, faltering with the common tongue in her rare moment of honesty.