Lost Creek Hollow [m] still water

morwenna’s silvering eyes lingered on him, soft and steady, as if the weight of her words required the grounding of his presence. she allowed the silence to settle between them for a moment, her claws lightly tracing the edge of his chin before retreating to rest gently against his chest.

i want to be at your side, always, she said tenderly, her voice quiet but resolute. there was no hesitation in her tone, no wavering in her gaze as she spoke, her words carrying the weight of a promise forged in the warmth of shared breath and touch. i want to be ice to your fire. equal, but opposite. i heal, you lead.

she exhaled slowly, her expression shifting into something contemplative. i can mend. talk to spirits, she continued, her voice now laced with a quiet reverence. it is called valyrkessa where i am from. the word rolled off her tongue with a subtle cadence, its foreignness a gentle reminder of a life left behind.

her gaze lowered briefly before meeting his again, a faint flicker of sorrow mingling with the strength in her eyes. but i am no longer from there, she murmured, her voice softening further, the admission carrying the echoes of a severed bond. her lips pressed together, as if tasting the bitterness of the truth she had spoken, yet there was no regret in her tone.

her paw moved once more, resting lightly against the pulse of his heartbeat, as if to anchor herself to him. what i want, vezof, she said at last, her voice tender and unwavering, is to be relied on.