Sunbeam Lair vicariously I live while the whole world dies

He was still as she spoke, only his forelimbs tightening as she nestled closer to him—cloaking him with her warmth and acting a voice of reason. It was a situation that held no great outcomes—only a bitter realization that Germanicus had been on trial for the wrong thing.

The silver lining there, however, was that perhaps the Mayfair could bar him from lands with the assumption of the trial outcome—for the betterment of the creek in general.

A kiss to his wrists—placating. Coaxing. He inhaled sharply—eyes shutting, the sharp eyes of Silvertongue coming to the forefront. “Okay,” he offered, his voice quiet in the night. Opening his eyes, he pressed his snout to the back of her neck—if he tested her scent, he would have swore he could scent the traces of the Sharpfang there. But surely, it was only because she rest at the forefront of his mind. “I’ll try my best.”

And then, silence. Because what else was there to say on the terrible circumstances that had befell a woman who they had both clearly become fond of?

fade?