Verdant Basin she may have died; we're looking into it.

Artaax was often not a very patient man. When it came to disloyalty, ignorance and stupidity, his fuse was incredibly short. Almost non-existant, really. He periodically would try to be better about those things, especially when it came to his siblings, but otherwise... nope.

Hunting, though, was an entirely different story. Artaax was capable of lying perfectly still for hours on end if it meant a successful hunt. He was too addicted to the feeling of victory to sacrifice it for any reason. He had always the patience in the world for it. This dance with Niamh.. this was a hunt, and the hunter was perfectly willing to wait as long as it took to capture his prey.

When the golden goddess crept forth and reached out again, Artaax merely watched. His heart was hammering in his chest, particularly when he felt the gentle press of her nose against his cheek, but still he held for a few moments longer, unwilling to spook her and break this spell. Unwilling to lose this hunt.

Eventually, slowly, the feisripa leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as he did so. He turned his head a fraction of an inch to run his own nose along her cheekbone, drawing a line in her golden fur from there to the base of her ear. Slowly, slowly, slow, he placed a tentative lick upon her temple, testing the waters, seeing if she would bolt or if he'd be permitted to continue.