Ouroboros Spine [m] i’m in the trees, i’m in the breeze, my footsteps on the ground

When the words were out, Valiant felt — lighter? Empty? Torn asunder? He didn't know it then, but he'd lost more than he'd bargained for in this short conversation. A thing he would never get back, placed trustingly in Vairë's paws.

But not blindly. Not thoughtlessly. Because while his feelings for Vairë were strong, he knew that his resolve was stronger. He knew that her good sense would guide her true. They both thought too much about things, and worried too much, and feared so much as well —

But maybe, just with each other, they could start to let go. Or to hold on, as they'd so rarely allowed themselves, always fearing the tug of someone pulling away, the fraying of the edges of supposedly unbreakable bonds. He trusted her. So he did not think about it then — about how, if that trust was broken, he would never trust again.

He held still until her words rolled over him like a summer storm, and his instincts urged him to act, then, but he took her tenderly in his arms just to hold her. Just so that they could lean against one another, solid and sure. For all that he was elated, for all that he wanted to feel giddy, the weight of the moment struck him sober and serious, even as relief made his heart soar.

"I'd be lyin' if I said I ain't been picturin' 'em," he said, a breathless laugh in his voice. He pulled back just enough to press his muzzle to her cheek. "What do you wanna do about it?" he asked her.