The Sunspire iii. please take my hands

she longed to place her head against her paws, to sag beneath the weight of relaxation. but the man was persistent in his complexity and his energy kept her muscles bound in tension. besides, she didn't wish to appear rude in spite of her fatigue.

still, lótë did not return her eyes to him. though they flickered in his direction as seth shifted. 

"i do not know." was all she had to offer in response, a weariness so deep it ached settling into her at the question. the dove did not wish to know, truly. this world had always been enough for her.