Honeyed Pasture but i've never loved one before

the soft sway of her hips reminds him of andraste and it is all wintersbane can do to not turn his head away from her; to not close his eyes. it is time to move on; yes. and he has, for the most part. but his heart cannot pretend to not be fissured by first relmyna's death and then andraste's. a widow, twice ...even if relmyna and him had never been anything truly official. there was only so much love lost wintersbane could give and each of the two women he loved had left their own marks upon him.

one, physically too. the skin beneath 'x' of his wedmarks twitch as if in unneeded reminder.

yes, wintersbane rasps. nearby, he corrects with a soft smile that does not touch the glacier pools of his eyes. i'm from the bay. he gestures towards it with a small movement of his muzzle.