Boartusk Heights cherrywine [m]

After their throws of pleasure, they lie in one another’s arms. Sharing body heat and simply basking in one another’s presence. Their breathing now calmed, the light breeze and the sounds of nature all around them are the only things they can hear. Until her scarlet voice meets his auds and they flick towards her in interest. 

Have you love a man, Kynareth?

The inquiry doesn’t quite throw him off, but it surprises him enough for him to take his eyes off the scenery before him.

Do they love other men in same way?

He wonders where she’s leading with these questions, but he takes it upon himself not to answer until she says what she wants to say. Then it comes, the reason she asks these questions. A woman in Brecheliant has caught her interest. Though, it seems much more serious than that, especially when she mentions that her lovers husband has apparently risen from the dead and come back.

He understands and it brings back his own memories. Back when he still thrives in the Old Saints. Back before Sasha, his bitch of an ex-wife, had doomed them all to a fiery death. Back when he too had been in love with a man. Matias. The agouti Spaniard, much like him, roughened by many years of war, tall and bulky, handsome as the devil himself. Yet, Sasha had captivated his interest. Why? He would’ve chose him. Maybe if he did, the Saints would’ve never fallen. 

With his own deep breath, he sighs, willing his own memories away. Loving the same sex is only as complicated as one makes it, but he understands where she is confused. He’s not the best at this type of advice, for he is a fickle man when it comes to relationships and such like them. 

Eyes that twin the sun gaze back out over the strath. “I have.” He answers almost solemnly to her first question. Still do. He wants to say, but doesn’t. “Sometimes. It truly depends.” He answers her second with a bit of uncertainty.

He does have to agree with her that it isn’t as easy as living the opposite sex — or at least most of the time it is. Depending on upbringing, pack, the individual, everything. There’s so many variables. But if she finds her problem in the fact that she cannot have her own children with her, then the closest thing he could think of is to adopt.

“It is harder, I have to agree there.” A soft pause. “Have you two considered adopting? Or is that off the table?” He wonders softly, voice understanding.