Greatwater Lake mephisto

between their jousts, zharille made sure to show signs of welcome, of softness (in whatever liminal form that took), so that he would know this was a game. that none of his snaps or quick, harrying strikes were seen as anything else. it was typical behavior for two playful teenagers (not so much expected of adults).

when she'd had enough of it, she reached deftly for his shoulder and grabbed it with more fervor. this was a correction, and she left his skin with a subtle bruise as she caught her breath. but he was already lunging through the snow and somehow dragging her along, so that they tumbled together!

for a flash zharille was on her side, her belly almost exposed. she felt vulnerable and coughed a guttural sound while twisting against tarantula, eager to get back up, lest he think he'd somehow beaten her. she did not like to be reduce in such a way, even in the realm of play.