Sleepy Fox Hollow this love it is a burning sun

Lorcan's gaze shifted between the two women, the tension between them as palpable as a coiled wire ready to snap. Envy, his sharp-edged muse, and Elowen, his delicate dove—both so different, yet equally captivating in their own ways. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his amber eyes gleaming with that signature blend of charm and mischief.

Ah, my little dove, my envy, he began, his voice smooth and warm, a balm against the taut air. He stepped forward, placing himself between them—not as a barrier, but as a bridge. No need to bristle, little loves. There's plenty of me to go around. He let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound breaking through the silence like a soft crack of thunder.

He turned first to Envy, his gaze steady but soft. You’re as sharp as ever, I see, he remarked, his tone playful but firm enough to dissuade her from pushing too far. But let’s not scare off the dove, hmm? She’s not used to the rough edges we’re so fond of.

Then he shifted his attention to Elowen, his expression gentling as his voice dropped a note. And you, sweet Elowen, he said, his words laced with reassurance. Don’t let her rattle you. Envy’s bark is worse than her bite, most days. He cast a quick glance back at Envy, the teasing glint in his eyes making it clear he wasn’t entirely serious.

He settled between them, his presence deliberate, grounding. Now, I’d much prefer if we all played nice, he continued, his tone still light but carrying a subtle edge of authority. After all, what’s the point of tension when we could be enjoying ourselves instead?

His smirk widened slightly, an invitation rather than a command. Shall we start over? Envy, Elowen. Elowen, Envy. Two of the finest I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. He inclined his head toward each in turn, the air around him exuding a confident ease that seemed to dare the tension to linger in his presence.