Swiftcurrent Creek And the thousands of stars come out thousands of times

loveee purity ring <33

her face said a thousand things; the brush of her lips was purest reassurance. a soft and throated sound came from lestan, the parchment beneath the ink of reverie's brush. he was not sure he was deserving of her silent missives that came unfurled from breath and touch alike.
he remained reverent, almost wondering; always, she pulled that from him, the deepest glen-worship and the adulating purl of soft laughter which whispered through the fur of her nape as the mayfair responded fully and swiftly to the reality of her very shadelike existence.