Nova Peak gründung

"never, not at all," mahler grinned, a fresh gaiety in his eyes. he drank in the look of her, each movement a marvel; the gargoyle recalled how he had always been captivated by wylla, since their first meet. and though it had evolved into a sensation more deeply felt, mahler would not forsake the first experience of her.
she was tinged with the hue of the soaked earth; the shadowpriest sidled closer, lowering his muzzle slowly until his breath blossomed along the pelt over her shoulder. there he lingered, tonguetip stealing to coax the viridian from her moonbound robes. if she allowed, mahler meant to continue his slow washing of her coat, movement idled, languid as the rain continued to fall.