Northstar Vale the path to paradise begins in hell

the moment, which seems to stretch on for longer than just a mere moment is rife with building tension. wintersbane, studies her with a sway of his tail, with a twitch of muscles in shoulders and hips; bidding him to reman still. to be as stone; hard and devoid of the warmth he feels emitting from her. she is lovely temptation, even with all of her scars — as she has always been for him. and he can do nothing but resist; but fight the more base of his natures. the cruelty of the truth is she is not his and would never be, he fears.

but even acknowledging that believed truth to himself does nothing to stifle the ache. the simpering flame.

a low grunt is given at her new request. a tale as a soldier? of those i have many ...but battle is ugly, cruel and brutal. it doesn't make for good tales, i'm afraid. his lips twist mirthlessly, a large breath taken inhaling little else but her scent. sweet and floral and - and — i could tell you of how i earned these scars, or how i fought my sister and almost killed her. how i considered it. perhaps, he thinks though he has not seen hide nor hair of her, he should've killed her.