Words are spaces between us.

Scimitar did not respond with words, only with his body. He strode forward once more until their chests were flush, pristine Winter-white mingling with pale butterscotch, and pushed his muzzle between the russet and alabaster fur of her neck. Paar regarded the gesture simply as the one of a wolf who craved the comfort of a physical connection with another of his own species, and so she welcomed him into her embrace with a friendly croon.

Her muscles stiffened, however, at the reaction this seemed to prompt. The agouti brute trailed his snout through the bi-coloured beauty's fine pelt, traced his nose upward until his lips were brushing the base of an tufted lobe. She pulled back then, copper eyes wild with uncertainty, and made to seek her companion's aquamarine gaze; "please, no," she said softly, "you're heart is hurting, and you're looking for a distraction." Paarthurnax whined softly, standing her ground, determined not to betray Shadow and determined to convince Scimitar that seeking affection elsewhere could only end with deep regret. "I cannot be that. Neither of us would be able to forgive ourselves."