Qeya River [m] ghosts

when he speaks, his voice is low and rough with warmth. he finds himself drifting closer to her. one paw after another, until he is standing before her.

an onyx titan before a raveness queen.

i would have a family, gjalla. the faint curl of his lip reveals it’s not all jest. he is serious, as rain, as storm, as sleet. but this is something he would never force on her. but he must know. he must know if this is something she would ever want, before he commits in fullness to bringing her to wife. attempting to.

if that is not something you want... he pauses, breath growing closer as he leans snout to hers. nose brushing just hesitantly against hers. he seeks her warmth. any touch from her. then i won't bother you anymore.

even the thought pains him. not in the way of heartbreak, but of silly, romantic fantasies crushed.

he allows himself the faintest tug of his lip upwards into a veneer of a teasing smirk. unless you call for me in the night... he trails off. her vulgar language had stoked an ever-present flame in the pit of his gut. he moves to brush down the length of her side if she'll allow him, seeking to press a kiss to her back. when you are all alone, tormented...