Blackfoot Forest [m] I think that she knows, can't keep sealed tight

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The visit to Bearclaw Valley left her oddly frayed and out of sorts. Reverie had waved her guardians away, requesting a rare moment of solitude in the woodland. The sun was low in the sky as she idly trailed a fox, faintly amused by how it hurried with increasing panic the longer she followed. The fox couldn't know she had no intention of harming it.

Eventually she surrendered the trail, letting the terrified creature slip out of sight. Her thoughts turned to the man who'd reminded her so much of her late husband. @Cole. There'd been something — sharper about him, she thought. Something dangerous. Maybe it was best that she'd kept her distance.

Cole caught her scent first, faint on the breeze, but enough to lead him through the trees with that easy, unhurried gait of his. He found her there, golden eyes flickering over some path only she saw, a trace of tension in her posture that he hadn’t expected to see. Alone, too.

Thought a girl like you’d have an entourage, he drawled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The remark held that faint note of teasing as his gaze swept the woods, almost as if expecting her guardians to appear. But they didn’t.

Cole let the silence stretch, studying her in the quiet that followed. You doin' alright, miss? The words came softer, the concern barely there but unmistakable, as he leaned against a nearby tree, a dark figure blending almost seamlessly with the shadows. There was a dangerous quality about him, true—a sharpness that hadn’t dulled, even in his casual stance. And yet, as he waited, he seemed content to simply linger, offering her that strange, quiet sense of companionship she hadn’t quite expected.

As if summoned by her thoughts — or perhaps she should have expected this, expected him and the tease in his voice as he called her girl. Reverie had lived her whole life under the soft hunger of men's eyes upon her. Each thought himself different than the last, better, but she'd learned that a man would justify anything for his lust in the end.

Or his lack.

So his presence was met with disdain, a haughty toss of her gilded ruff. I don't think you know what kind of woman I am at all, Reverie challenged softly, at once agitated and oddly thrilled by the notion that he'd followed her here. Her tail flagged in windswept amber and gilded pearl above her hips. Whether I'm alright or not, I can take care of myself.

Cole’s gaze softened as he caught the glint of defiance in her eyes, and he dipped his head just a fraction, a hint of apology in his tone. Didn’t mean to rile you, ma’am, he said quietly, voice low and steady. His words were meant to settle, not to poke.

But even as he spoke, he didn’t let up his stance — broad-shouldered and grounded, like he’d brace her storms without bending. He hadn't meant to impose on her character. Jus' in his nature to comment— even when he should be keepin' his mouth shut. Just keepin’ watch, he added, gaze unwavering, steady as the mountains. What kinda woman are you, then? Got this valley in a ruckus.

There was no mirth in his eyes, only a respectful distance, as if to say he didn’t enjoy stirring her temper, but he'd stand firm regardless. 'Sume that's no fault o'yer own. Jus' curious.

Of course you didn't mean to, she thought, maybe unfairly — but it was a bitterly ironic defense made to a woman who had always been forced to face the difference between action and intention. Not that he could know. Or maybe he ought to by now; wasn't that a lesson the world taught everyone in time?

A woman fighting a war, Reverie's rejoinder was less barbed this time; this, at least, was a fair question to ask. She'd brought news of war to his home. In my own way. It isn't the news I wanted to bring to the valley - this was my home for a long time. I raised my daughters here.

And I'd burn this whole valley to ashes if I had to.

But we do what we have to. Her gaze flitted over him again, catching on the scars he wore so well. And you? What kind of man are you, following a lone woman into the woods? A note of teasing in her own voice then, perhaps cruelly so — but surely he couldn't deny how it looked.

Cole listened closely, his expression solemn as the woman spoke. He could hear the weight behind her words, the weariness that clung to them. He let her voice fill the space, nodding slowly when she finished, before offering his own response, careful and measured.

Guess we all find our own battles, he said quietly, his southern drawl steady but thoughtful. Special place t'be back, if this is where your kin were raised. He shifted his weight slightly, his eyes meeting hers with quiet respect. 

I ain't followin' you into the woods for any reason but to offer what I can. Sometimes, that's all a man can do.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, the teasing tone she’d used not lost on him. He didn't take offense, but he didn’t let it slide either. Most of us ain't so kind. Try'na do my part t'a set it right. He offered a small, polite smile. If you’ve gotta war to fight, might as well have some help while you’re at it.

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He wanted to help, to be one of the good ones; how many times had she heard that? It might have been laughable if it didn't still hurt so much. Reverie was again reminded of Boone, who had always needed to save the world like he'd needed air in his lungs.

She stepped closer. I don't need your help, she might have said; I don't trust you. That would have been the truth.

I can think of a few things I might ask, Her voice was softer now, more inviting than it'd been; if Cole meant to offer her kindness, let him see exactly what kind of woman she was. Not quite a warrior-queen or a damsel in distress — just another drifter who took her pleasures where she could, just some wildwood creature wrought in the same blood and sinew as any other. Another step brought her closer, boldly so. Help isn't the first thing that comes to mind.

If he wasn't here to fight, she wanted him to fuck her.

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Cole's eyes darkened, a hint of mischief playing at the edges of his mouth as he met her gaze, his expression shifting to something more intense. Was he readin' this room right? Her boldness is what caught him off guard— but he wasn't upset about it. In fact, he'd encourage it.

If that's what 'ya want, darlin', he drawled with a teasing grin, ain't gonna stop 'ya. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he kissed the curve of her neck, the tension between them rising. Cole was a man of diligence, a service for any in need if they cracked his shell properly. If it'd give her the confidence to win this war, so bet it. So fucking be it.

The space around them seemed to shrink as he brushed against her, his movements slow and deliberate, letting the moment hang heavy before everything faded into a deeper, unspoken connection. A part of him yearned to get to know her more. To plea for her to come back to this valley, but his tongue bled in his mouth as he kept it locked tight.

His kisses continued down the course of her body, fires started in the wake of his lips, until he rested his head on the apex of her hips, a knowing glance flushed with lust, to make sure that this is what she wanted.

fade to black for her next post?

We can continue after the fade here or in a new thread! <3

Reverie wasn't left wondering for long how his lips might feel against her skin; trembling now, unraveling, thorned teeth grazing his skin between her own rosepetal kisses. It'd been so long since she'd last danced like this — but she wasn't thinking of Dusty Rose then, or Boone, or Lestan.

His eyes were on her.

This was for her.

Her tail swept over his nape even as a shiver slid down her spine. The moments after that all melded to one, warm and bittersweet. This wasn't a beginning, after all. This wasn't a love story.

But there was something beautiful about it.

Can wrap it up slowly, I don't imagine Cole'd sitck around LOLOL

Finding euphoria in her was easy. The gentle movements and pace— it had turned into something beautiful, though the moment had been fleeting. When he pulled away from her, he offered her a simple nuzzle around her nape, before opening his mouth to speak.

That all y'need from me? He'd ask, though it wasn't a desperate question. It was simple: he was a man of duty, and what she had wanted was done. What else was he s'posed to stick around for? A marriage proposition? If she needed someone to make her feel larger than life, or simply ground her back into reality,

It was Reverie, wasn't it? He take a moment to begin to step away from her, almost as though he was going to disappear into the woods. I'll let 'yer entourage know you're jus' fine out here.

Subdued in the aftermath, Reverie's only response was to nod as she settled among the fallen leaves to groom her mussed fur. The scent of him would cling to her for days — but she could at least try not to reek of sex when she returned to her companions. Busied now with her own gilded vanity, the image she'd been tasked to uphold, she would let Cole's departure pass in silence.

She wouldn't ask him to stay.

But neither would she watch him leave; it would have been a lie to claim it didn't hurt. She didn't know him, wouldn't ever know him, but Reverie had never taken a man to her bed who she didn't come to love in the end. In truth he was only the fourth. The sorrow would linger long after he'd left.

The self-loathing would come later.