Moonsong Glacier be the moth to my flame

should the raven have pressed her temper, she might have found herself granted with clipped wings.

but before unsightly acts could befall the blackbird and viper, the voice of a man cut the tension like a dull blade.

muscles relaxed, though only slightly, and her tail fell to rest neatly behind her in a practiced sway. the raven turned to shadow, and the blistering assumption of the pair's relationship crept upon the serpent with steady belief.

she did not care.

nephele drank in the sight of the man as she would any other. admiring the height of his frame, the sculpted edges of befitting brawn. she appreciated the experienced lines of aged wisdom — though promptly decided he was not as handsome as what she might have wished him to be.

still, he checked the boxes, and from that moment forward, was considered a candidate.

a question rung in the air, and the vision of absinthe might have glowed with forethought.

"i intend to bear children come spring," she revealed bluntly, a glance cast towards the lingering girl.

"as you might intend to bolster your ranks." they might be of mutual benefit to each other, or they might not. but as it be, that card was presently dealt to him.