Heron Lake Plateau Troy, this is Midsomer

Theoretically this thread takes place after the thread with Colt & Qui going to talk to Elwood.  Unless something nuts happens, in which case this will be moved to be before it, so bewaaareee. Either way, vague as heckers.

Today, the remaining snow was sparse and dirty up by the edges of the water.  One of the few positives of this whole moving thing was that the water seemed to make spring come a little earlier here at the shore.  What had drawn him over to the water specifically was the birds.  It wasn't the most popular time of the year for them, but there were enough -- namesake herons, a few ducks and all that nonsense.

The marshy ground around the shore wasn't the greatest for sneaking -- or at least he wasn't used to it.  He'd always lived on solid ground (when it wasn't covered in snow), so the interspersed marshy bits probably had the birds laughing at him.  Removing his paws from the muck occasionally made gross sucking noises and the feeling of grit and grime between his toes wasn't exactly pleasant.

Quixote took one more go at chasing after a beached duck, which waddled very quickly into the water after his first step or two in its direction.  Not his day, not his prey.  With a huff, he came to a stop, glaring at the wake it left through the water.  It'd take a lot more practice or he'd just have to stick to the landlocked creatures farther away.  Whichever.

He went and took a drink, then continued his way around the shore, but now he was certainly not as enthusiastic about trying to take a meal from it.  He'd rather be back on a damn mountain.

Phone post! I’ve been wanting a thread with this guy. :)

Raven was exhausted. Just physically and emotionally spent. The past few days had been draining in nearly every way, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the long, tiring week of travel they’d endured prior to everything happening. Raven was hyper-empathetic and compassionate to a point that sometimes it sapped her own inner strength, and acting as healer, counselor, and peacemaker for a narrowly-escaped second war had pushed her to her limits.

As if that wasn’t complicated enough, a late heat had picked this fine time to show up and throw a bunch of obnoxious hormones into the mix. Typically, Raven withdrew into solitude during these times and devoted herself to studying plants and medicine in an attempt to avoid everyone (particularly males) and not draw attention to herself or cause unnecessary ruckus in the pack.

She had already failed spectacularly in that regard, and the memory of the incident with Titmouse was horribly etched into her memory. She did her best not to dwell on it -- and she certainly didn't blame the boy -- but it wasn't easy. She found herself thinking about it at that particular moment and was horror-struck by her body's inappropriate response to the memory, so she forced her thoughts down a different avenue.

This was an interesting place for a healer. Though many of the plants were still sparse and dormant in the wake of winter, she could already tell that spring would bring a vast bounty of plants both familiar and new to her. She was excited to explore this aspect of her new home and possibly discover new treatments for injuries and illness.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden raucous splashing of a duck charging into the water, and her eyes flicked up to land on her packmate Quixote. She knew him in the way that coworkers know one another — mostly in passing, indifferently cordial, nothing particularly personal. But she’d gained a newfound respect for the gruff, stoic gamma when he’d been one of the few voices of reason raised against bloodshed between the Redhawks and Titmouse’s would-be pack. For that, he had her gratitude and she flashed him a friendly smile.

Aaa!  That's a phone post?! You've got way more patience than me that's for sure, haha.  Though maybe I should try, I may have gotten a little too lost in Qui's head here. -- And since I typed that, it got longer.

Quixote had issues.  Maybe a couple of subscriptions, but at least not a bookshop or a library.  He had Opinions™ on everything -- leadership, diplomacy, war, faith, and countless others -- and despite those, he was usually a guy who would grumble and just keep the status quo.  And yet, things had finally brought him to a tipping point.  Then, somehow stepping up to the plate didn't make him feel better.  Maybe he should just learn to be apathetic again.  Exploration and the birds were just a distraction -- a very temporary one at that before he started thinking again.

As he turned away from the water he spotted Raven, who'd likely seen him a few moments prior.  It seemed to startle him that she'd appeared -- they were far enough apart that she really shouldn't have.  Though...  Quixote wagged his tail, no further pause before he headed towards her.  The irritation and annoyance at himself and the world seemed to have been dumped in the lake.

Raven had been sort of a mystery to him, always around in the background -- from his perspective at least -- healing folks and recently fussing over Finley from what he could tell from the scents around the now-abandoned den back at the caldera.  At the end of the war, he'd probably been among the least injured of the pack and slipped away rather than causing a fuss.  And now because of that it'd be a few seasons before he was sure if the scar on his muzzle was going to stick around or if it'd melt into the black like the rest of its kin.  

Raven had always be there and he'd been too much of a coward to talk to her for fear of making things awkward and the thought that somehow that'd snowball into getting himself kicked out of the pack.  Subscriptions, remember?  Speaking to strangers was easy in comparison.  Honestly, when she'd stepped up and agreed with him at the spat and everything then went to hell, Quixote had kind of hoped to come out (more badly?) wounded -- it would have been a nice excuse to actually meet her and probably not stick a paw in his mouth while trying to be cool.  But here she was and Quixote was without such a convenient script.  And he hadn't noticed that what little left of the draft was already starting to smear from something beyond his control, something he had yet to pin down.  

Awkward to begin with for anything outside of a fight, there was no way it was going to make him any more suave, even as he tried to joke about recent events, Hey, peacekeeper.  Attempted peacekeeper?  He'd started off confident then ended up sounding rather perplexed -- his brain caught up with it, it sounded dumb as heck. Quixote shook his head.  Kind of lost the plot, so he moved on, Glad I wasn't the only one to speak up about that disaster.  Thanks for that.  It hadn't gone the way they'd wanted, but it was over now, right?  Now he could go back to trying to build the life he wanted that was ripped out of some sort of storybook.  All the rest was just garbage.  Now was the time to live it up, take chances with -- no, wait, that wasn't right.  Why -- wait.  Oh.  Hm.  That put a new spin on things.

I love Qui, hehe. <3

Raven never quite knew how to interact with others, particularly males, when she was in season. It was complicated enough as it was, being a somewhat introverted individual already, but the hormones and the fire burning in her blood totally obliterated most of her inhibitions and common sense. When she greeted someone in passing, all she could think about was ripping their metaphorical clothes off and having her way with them. Male or female, it didn't matter. All of that had to be fought back and restrained just to say "hello".

And you thought Quixote needed a script!

This was why she became so reclusive during her estrus. It just made things so much simpler. But for the moment, her cover was blown and there was little she could do about it but hope that her scent wasn't too tantalizing. Or maybe she hoped it was. She didn't know.

He approached her with a friendly greeting, thanking her for her backup during the fight, and Raven shrugged. "It was a total shitshow," she agreed, shaking her head. "Thanks for being one of the few who weren't trying to kill my brother." She wagged her tail at him, its length brushing across the ground where she sat. Quixote was as much an enigma to her as she was to him. The gamma was taciturn and generally kept to himself, but Raven knew him to be a dedicated and trustworthy member of their pack. He was also looking really hot right about now, and she had to resist letting her eyes rove over him appreciatively.

I think both of these nerds could be in the running for Awkward Nerd of the Year, rofl. WHO WILL WIN BY THE END OF THE THREAD?!

There had been a little voice in the back of his mind that nagged him with each of the women he met, like some grandmother eager to get her hands on a new batch of children to spoil, 'When are you going to get married?  Is she single? She sounds nice, you should invite her over for dinner,'  except when it was that complete disaster of Blackthorn sisters, which made him question his quest entirely.  He'd gotten used to tuning it out as spring had gone on, as though he'd tried, he'd first failed, then told indirectly to stop trying and he'd just about grown to accept that.  Perhaps that was part of why the voice had changed, no longer a sitcom grandma but another guy in a bar egging him on.  Now instead it screamed, 'Take her!' with emphasis varying, and was much harder to ignore.

Let's be real, the post-war Redhawks were a sausage fest.  But Quixote had to be the most eligible bachelor, right?  No strings tying him to any family within a good long walk.  And Raven?  She was the only of age, unattached woman inside the borders he knew of -- that meant they were practically made for each other, he thought, trying to convince his conscious mind to agree with his instincts so he had half a chance of surviving this without Freudian slipping into sometime next week.

It was for that reason he also decided it'd be a good idea to follow her lead and take a seat.  It was a good way to keep himself from slowly continuing to drift forward until his muzzle was buried deep in her fur, as tantalizing as that thought suddenly was.  Quixote wasn't sure it was going to work for long, as he was already regretting doing so. I joined up to help end a war, didn't need another starting because a couple of kids are still trying to figure out who they are. Neither party were pups any more, not by a long shot, but they were still in the awkward inbetweens so it made for a good turn of speech. Looked like he's had a rough time.  I hope they're able to sort it out once they've cooled off, and timelines said it was likely they already had.  For once he was willing to believe Towhee would figure out the best way to deal with it, mostly because it left him free to do other things and not worry about it.  Other things on his mind and all.  

It was far too glum a subject and far too complicated for his addled mind to muse on like it normally would.  Quixote opted to try to change the subject instead, Was scoping out the lake if you wanted to come along?  I think the birds are a bit too smart for me though.  No question he was antsy, already starting to stand up again as he tried to charm her closer with a lopsided grin and some self-deprecating humor.  It was supposed to be a game, wasn't it?  She the temptress and he the rogue toying with the distance between them until he was sure he wouldn't get bitten.

He wanted, and whether it was right, whether it was allowed in the eyes of leadership didn't really cross his mind. There was one warning, though, billboard-sized and easily able to keep him on the moral straight and narrow:  DON'T MESS IT UP.

Some of what he said went in one ear and out the other because at that particular moment she was busy scoping out his fine ass big package bulging muscles THE BEAUTIFUL LAKE, but she managed to catch the gist of it as he sat down (somewhat to her disappointment). "Hm? Oh, yeah. Totally. I don't know how to feel about all of it, to be honest. I trust Towhee, but...yeah." Good grief, get it together, Ray, she chided herself, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed beneath her fur.

A seriously awkward silence descended for a moment as the healer fumbled for what to say next. Ordinarily she had no trouble carrying a conversation, even with quieter partners, and seldom ever caught herself distractedly stumbling over her words, but today she was just a mess. Thankfully Quixote was a step ahead of her and suggested they take a walk. She nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and rose to her feet. She grinned wryly as she edged closer to him, yellow eyes alight and voice full of amusement as she replied to his comment that the birds were smarter than him, "...So I noticed." She threw back her head and barked a laugh, then trotted a short distance away, casting a glance back over her shoulder to see if he would follow.

He was glad that she took him up on that, for if she said no... Well.  Quixote wasn't a great conversationalist unless he was just ranting about something, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up those usual raves, let's say.  Anyway, his dumb joke seemed to go over well!  Got a laugh out of her at least, and for a brief moment it seemed she might get even closer so he could--- nope.  She moved off ahead, Quixote not too far along behind like a faithful shadow.  Okay, maybe not quite that distance yet.  He didn't want to overstep his bounds.  But was it really?  Would she mind?  He wouldn't.  Oh, I'm sure give it a month or whatever, I'll have it down.  A show of playful confidence as he tried to suss out if that little jog was the start of a game or not.  Hell, he could watch her run along just in front of him all day, wouldn't mind a minute of it.  He was just about up alongside her again.

But it was perhaps a little too much ego (fake or not) and a definitely too little paying attention.  Quixote wasn't watching where he was going, though, and as he caught up he wandered straight through a particularly muddy patch that had a strong desire to keep his left front leg all to itself.  He immediately tipped forward with a very unmanly yip, momentum rolling him onto his left side, paw coming free with a shhwuk.  Quixote was actually a little dazed from it -- not from the fall, that was nothing -- the fact it had happened in the first place.  Where did that come from?  Something did have to go wrong, didn't it?  But he wasn't expecting it to be now or this. Pulling himself back to his feet, he was crestfallen at the whole thing and momentarily well and truly distracted from the heat scent, Also, there's mud.  He tried to shake out his fur but what stuck seemed keen to stay.  He was now sporting a lovely brown stripe up his elbow, shoulder, certain points on his hip and ribs, and a lovely smudge on his cheek to compliment the boots he already had.  Forcing a sheepish smile as he searched to see if he'd lost his opportunity by being a moron, Never fear, I'm an expert idiot.

One wonderful thing about being in season was that the hormones temporarily commandeered her brain and made it nearly impossible to dwell on bothersome things. Titmouse was the furthest thing from her mind now as everything inside of her hummed to the rhythm of Quixote, and she reveled in the freedom of it. She was not accustomed to being pursued, having always been sort of a wallflower in the background before now, and truth be told, she relished the attention by such an attractive male. She loped along, casting coy glances rearward, waiting for him to make a move (...would he? the excitement was too much!).

And oh, make a move he did! She heard the weird squelching sound of his feet in the mud and turned around just in time to see him execute a truly magnificent faceplant right into a patch of thick, sticky mud. Once she saw that he was okay, she fell into a fit of helpless giggles as he attempted to pull himself together. His nonchalant explanation -- "Also, there's mud." -- only made her laugh harder, and she moved a little closer to him to get a better look at the new paint job. Cocking her head, eyes alight with mirth, she commented with a grin, "Hey, brown looks good on you!"

So from scruffy and eternally a little unkempt but not too bad to this.  If wolves went to the groomer, he'd certainly need a trip.  Raven, on the other hand was perfect.  He hadn't thought about it -- his brain had autofilled a certain degree of unkempt features to everyone he came across.  But now, he actually got a good look at her.  How'd she manage that?  Was she so bewitching right now for more supernatural reasons, also explaining her appearance?  Probably not, but it sounded good right about now.

But at his troubles? Of course she laughed.  For a moment his heart jumped to his throat, thinking it was all over.  But once he actually listened it was obvious he shouldn't have worried.  His forced smile turned to a much more natural (and devious) smirk as Quixote took a step forward.  C'mere, you can try it out too, if you'd like.  He took a playful swing at her with a messy paw, missing on purpose just in case she didn't want to actually join him in the muck.  It'd be more fun to carry on with it as a threat anyway.

This whole thing was different.  When he was closer to Titmouse's age he'd fooled around with some of the youths who'd join his birth pack before they realized it was a hellhole and bailed ASAP.  That was before he realized that was probably on the list of Things That Might Get You Killed back there. Back then it had been for what?  Convenience?  Probably just a very good distraction from how screwed up things were at the time.  But what was all this?  He was rarely playful.  Wait.  Why was he even thinking about this right now? Screw you, brain, go away!

He swung at her playfully with his paw, missing intentionally, and Raven cackled with glee. Entirely in jest, he invited her to come try it out although he obviously didn't expect she would actually act on it. But he didn't know the Redhawk girls very well, did he? Just when you thought you had a Redhawk figured out, they'd go and turn all your expectations on their head. Raven was no exception to that as she bounded forward, nipping playfully at his tail mid-bounce, and leaped with all four paws right into the muck. Goop splattered everywhere, freckling her chest and belly with brown spots, and she wrinkled her nose at the cold squishiness that oozed between her toes. Giggling deviously, she flicked a little more mud at him (because clearly he wasn't already dirty enough!) before stepping out of the patch, grinning with mixed disgust and delight at the weird sucking sensation she felt as she pulled each foot out of the muck.

She side-eyed him coyly, tail wagging, and found that she rather liked this unusual side of the ordinarily standoffish, morose Quixote. His handsomeness had not gone unnoticed by her before now, but his aloof nature did not exactly advertise that he was looking for friendship or attention. But with each moment that passed now, she found she liked him more and more. Perhaps it was just the hormones influencing her thoughts, but then again, Raven generally liked everyone she met.

The only side of a Redhawk he'd seen was that of business -- Towhee preparing for war, chiding him for taking initiative later.  Okay, taking that back, Orca had seemed much more well-balanced in their meeting, but it wasn't like they were splashing through mud puddles like a couple of pups like he and Raven were now.

Speaking of which, her dive gave him a nice coat of speckles as well though much finer than hers -- probably mostly just water with a little bit of dirt as a bonus.  As he turned around to say something else to her, she flung a new spray of mud at him. Hey! he said with a laugh, pausing a moment to look down at the 'damage' done.  If it was blood, it probably would have been a perfect effect in an action movie, tracking from his shoulder across his chest.

But of course, he had to retort in kind, kicking a nice glob of the stuff her way before he went after her with as jaunty as a step as he could while it tried to hold him back.  So, continuing up the shore now, or..?  But it wasn't quite entirely his full suggestion.  As he finished the question, he darted forward with the last step, swinging to leave a muddy pawprint on her and this time not aiming to miss.  The alternate of making this all a game appealed to him, it was a good excuse to get closer to her.

His lonesome status was probably mostly his fault.  He was used to keeping a low profile, and maybe to a point it had cost him a few things -- friendships with pack mates for one -- but at this instant he didn't care. He was happy to forget that Towhee screwed up, that Elwood didn't think anything was wrong or that stuff should change. There would always be things Quixote regretted, things he thought too much about.  For now, for once in his life, he was saying screw all that and was happy to live in the moment.  Happy to be a fool chasing a girl around like he'd never seen a bad day in his life.  He could get used to it.

She watched him, studied his motions, noticing how lithely he moved and how the sinuous muscles beneath his black fur rippled liquidly in the wan light of the crescent moon. The subtle glow danced over his silhouetted form like a silver-white aurora, and with each turn of his head, those electric eyes caught shards of moonlight and gleamed like gems. Damn, she thought appreciatively, staring at him with an appropriately come-hither glint in her gaze, that is one fine-ass piece of man meat there. He had a wonderful laugh, one she yearned to hear more often, and the infectious joy of it quickly had her suppressing a cackle herself. How had she not caught on to how attractive he was before now...?

As he strode toward her, he inquired about continuing their stroll. But before Raven could get a word out, he rushed toward her and left a gloriously muddy swipe right across the front of her shoulder. She grinned as he swooped in, making no effort to move, and when the deed was done, she was standing there almost nose-to-nose with him, tail wagging and golden eyes piercing his with mischievous intensity, as if daring him to make a move. She said nothing, waiting with bated breath as her nerves jangled and her heart raced.

I'll take "stuff I am bad at writing and thus takes forever" for $800, Alex.

Or.  The answer was 'or.'  He'd honestly expected her to keep going or swat him back another time first.  But she'd stopped, steadfast and statuesque, just a breath away.  So it was in his court, apparently.  Uhhhh.  So on the one hand, she was enticing and as an inky black moth drawn to an equally dark flame, was this not what he wanted?  On the other, he had like maybe three seconds to try to figure out what was the best approach here.  On the gripping hand, holy hell he was terrified of doing the wrong thing.  Was that why it felt like his heart was trying to claw its way out of his chest?

He wasn't going to think too deeply about it and pushed the rest of the world away.  Quixote took a cautious step forward, slowly leaning in as his as his eyes drank in the finer details of Raven's face, the way what little light there was lit each plane created by the combination of bone, muscle, and fur that perfectly sculpted her.  Though the anatomical details escaped him, the result was certainly pleasing.  She still seemed somewhat ethereal to him, like how time, conflict, and everything else had dared not leave a permanent mark.  How different this world was from the one he left in the fall.

His movements were careful, possibly experimental, like he wanted to give the right answer but had been dozing off when asked the question. That uncertainty was a scary thing, but thrilling just the same.  For all he knew, he'd end up with a second big gouge on the side of his face from this.  Quixote's nose glanced off Raven's mud-specked cheek, then veered onward as he nipped at the corner of her jaw.  Another step followed as he swung his head along to trace her neck, partially open maw gently raking through the thicker fur as he briefly paused at the apex of her scapula, nibbling there a moment as he gauged her reactions and was happy to drown himself in her scent in the meantime.

The closeness in itself was a prize to one as reclusive as Quixote often was, so it was probably unsurprising he was reserved about it all -- too worried about going to far too fast without approval, even if he wanted more.  It was all about Raven, after all, and so she was his guide.  If she was a creature of refined artistry, shouldn't she be treated however she wished?  He was just some guy, after all -- a scruffy loser who always saw himself as being dismissed and forgotten.  He didn't matter.  He should be honored, and he was.

There was a moment at which the entire universe stood still, where everything was frozen in a sort of suspended animation. A moment at which it could all tip one way or the other and this whole crazy thing could end in bliss or disaster. They stared at one another, hearts racing, heated gazes locked in a way that had nothing to do with challenge or domination. He was so beautiful. Did he even realize what a splendid creature he was? He drew near to her, closing the distance between them, and his touch on her cheek was something electrifying. She shivered. A gentle nip at her jaw brought a small croon to her lips, and then he was tracing his muzzle through her plush neck fur to linger at her shoulder. She closed her eyes as he did so, wondering how on earth she had ever gotten so lucky.

She had always been background scenery, or so that was how it had felt. She had neither the flashy looks nor the fiery personalities of her other siblings. Her featureless black fur and gentle, quiet way had always kept her out of the spotlight, and for most of her life she'd been content to keep it that way. She'd never resented her siblings' larger aspirations and their subsequently more exciting lives, but she would've been lying if she ever denied having hoped her turn would come. And now that it had, she found herself wondering if it was a dream -- if she would startle awake, back in the reality where the only romantic attention she'd ever gotten was from her brother.

Serious mood-killer there. Moving on...

She sighed softly and said nothing, but her relaxed stance and the waving of her tail indicated that he was doing all the right things. She craned her neck and watched him with covetous eyes, flashing him a smile when he glanced her way. Everything inside her sang for him, and she wanted to bury herself in the soft blackness of his ruff, lose herself in his scent and his strength. But she remained where she stood, afraid to move or speak lest she shatter the intoxicating magic of the moment.

WARNING: AKA some barely PG-level vaguefading, skip a post or two if you live in a rated G world!

And unlike Screech, Quixote had a clue.  Or at least a clue what he liked and what might work for others.  There'd always be the chance to refine it later (or so he hoped), but for now he was happy that he seemed to be pushing mostly the right buttons.  He liked this part of the game, the closeness, the brief flashes of contact that only encouraged more, her responses.  He decorated Raven with nips and nibbles to tease and enthrall, paying close attention to her reactions, to answer any obviously favored spots with extra visits and, as time went on, just a hint of ferocity.  As he did so, Quixote wound around her, circling closer until each movement was lightly pressed against her.  After a little bit more final, selective attention, it was obviously time for them to get what they were at this point both likely craving.




After they parted, Quixote didn't go far, eventually settling down next to Raven to groom her tousled fur back to its earlier perfection -- except for the mud, he'd have quite a hard time trying to get all of it off.  Some of it was his fault too.  If the lingering taste of dirt was the only distraction from what he was considering a perfect evening, he'd take it.  Bonus points that it gave him a chance to enjoy looking her over from head to tail again without seeming creepy.

He wished they'd met before, that he hadn't been so wary of looking at those within the borders as well.  He'd been foolish, but when he'd headed out earlier to explore, this wasn't how he was expecting things to go.  Not that Quixote particularly minded the result, let alone the exquisite company.  He was happy.  The light smile that graced his maw was genuine, without the weight that came with sarcasm or worry.  The rest of the world was on hold.  Quixote looked to her, wanting to say something but uncertain as to what -- he settled on leaning in to nose her cheek instead.

It was a little awkward, a bit uncertain (at least on her part, anyway), but Quixote was a skilled and gentle lover, and soon they were both soaring weightlessly on vibrant waves of transcendent bliss, two black shadows entwined into one. Raven had never felt anything like it in her life. Not even the most potent mind-altering drugs she knew of had ever made her feel so wonderful. Where everything that had transpired with Titmouse had been weird and painful and wrong, this...this was right. Of that, she was absolutely and utterly certain, and nothing anyone said could sway her to believe otherwise.

Soon after its sublime crescendo, the symphony of Quixote and Raven slowly wound down to a finale and ended with them side-by-side in the cool grass, he doting upon her with tender kisses while she breathed and tingled and floated on pink clouds of euphoria. She watched him watching her, loving the way his eyes moved over her -- equal parts appreciative, enthralled, and possessive. He leaned in to nose her cheek and she closed her eyes, a small smile painting her features as she relished the contact. She returned the gesture a little shyly, her tongue swiping soft kisses over his cheek and jaw.

Aaa! You're so much better at capturing all that than me! <3  Shall we wrap and have the shiny new thread?!

He was running on fumes.  After all the recent days of traveling and nights of bad sleep in unfamiliar lands, Quixote had tossed his stored anger and frustration on the fire to feed this show of defiance and enjoy himself, and now all that was keeping him going were a few remaining blissful embers.  He was going to crash and he was going to crash hard, just a matter of when.

At Raven's touch, he uttered a happy whine, tail beating softly on the ground behind him.  God, he could probably live for days off of a little affection if he tried -- he was so lucky to have found her tonight.  If the world stopped turning, he'd probably be okay with it ending on this note.

It was only in the name of preventing what might have been an endless loop of kisses that he spoke, voice soft and uncertain, If you don't mind, I kinda want to stick around.  It was, needless to say, a kind of sheepish question-statement-thing, but one where he felt he needed Raven's approval nonetheless.  Whether it was just the hormones or a wish that this would turn into something more (even if they kind of went about things in the wrong order), who knew, but he wanted to stay with her.  Before, someone had always ended up saying, 'Well... Bye,' and he didn't want to get his hopes up only to be chased off in ten minutes.

Sounds great! Last one from me. A bit short because phone post. ^_^ Also, that gif made me giggle!

She too was exhausted in nearly every imaginable way, and in the afterglow of their shared passion she felt her eyelids growing heavy. She could sleep right here beside him and die the happiest girl in the world. It didn’t matter that she barely knew him. Nature had no time for lengthy courtships and the exchanging of pleasantries. What had happened was primordial, inevitable beyond anything either of them could control. And Redhawks were known for doing things their own way anyway. Soon there would be a choice to make: stay together and become a mated pair, or go their separate ways and allow things to return to the way they had been.

Raven didn’t much care for that latter option, but she had no energy for decision-making tonight. To his words, she smiled and licked his chin, her own tail brushing the ground behind her. ”I’d like that,” she replied softly, her voice a muzzy croon as sleepiness weighted her words. ”Stay with me.”

What more could he wish for?  I'll be here as long as you'll keep me, he said in return, nuzzling her one more time before the evening came to a close.  Maybe it was good that things had happened the way they did.  Sometimes nature had to get things right just by chance, didn't it?  As long as he didn't wake up in the morning and find out it was all some sort of cruel dream...

And after a look around into the darkness for a quick assessment of their security, his gaze traveled back to Raven.  From the sound of her breathing, she'd already dozed off at his side.  For a moment he watched her, but soon his eyelids drooped and Quixote joined her in dreamland, his head tucked next to hers.