Hushed Willows as spring opens (touching, skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

✹☾❂

 

I missed you, too. It was almost silly, how those words caused her heart to go a-flutter. Maybe it wasn’t that he missed her, that much she knew to be true when he waited upon her doorstep, as much as it was what came next — the admission that he was not a man made to be alone. This was often how Eleuthera described herself as well, when speaking of Séamus, especially before his death. Now that he was gone, Leu found that she didn’t mention it so much (people were quick to take pity), but the longing was still very much there.

She would be lying if she said filling this need for companionship wasn’t her second biggest driver behind joining the Faeries. It wasn’t that she expected these wolves to fill her every need, or even her belly — she felt a sort of kinship with them, a dynamic which she was willing to explore for a lifetime. She felt a small sense of that now, with Kincaid, though Eleuthera easily swallowed it, convincing herself that was crazy. They were simply two like souls, bumping along into each other in their path of life. “— and Easthollow must continue to be good to you, or else they will feel my wrath," the woman purred to him, another small joke, wondering what he truly must think of her, now that he was seeing all of her un-pretty sides. If anything, at least she could be self-deprecating about it.

Having been in the man's presence for a lengthy amount of time, Eleuthera was no longer interested in keeping any distance between them. but Kincaid seemed a little slow on the uptake on these things, or perhaps she simply wasn’t sending her signals loud enough. Just as her mind had done during their first meeting, she played at mind-images of him sweeping her into his arms, licking behind her ears, of moving behind her and nosing her tail — the lilac fae watched with a heavy-handed gaze as he deeply inhaled the flower, seemingly unimpressed by (and allergic to) the sights and smells of nature’s most luxurious, floral gift.

It was no matter, Eleuthera was impressed enough of it for both of them.

For once, the featherlight woman drifted behind the cowboy, as he went to investigate a different flower. At his behest, she nestled the tip of her nose in the satin curves of the bloom and drank it in, deeply. “Hmm," she murmured, throwing her gaze up towards the man, who looked very self-indulgently pleased with himself. “It appears that you’re right." She was very much aware that his was Kincaid’s idea of a joke, which she would indulge rightly with a laugh and a lash of her tail behind her. Without really thinking out it, she reached out her neck and placed a thin cheek against the rose, rubbing it against herself, from the curve of her jaw to at least halfway down her neck.

“How does it smell, now?" she questioned earnestly, knowingly, offering the newly-perfumed part of herself up to him for his inquiry.