Arrow Lake abbatia

bonus points.

there was her own soft tactics here, meadow offering him remnants of past warmth between them. was it for the sake of peace or for her own sense of closure? the eagle tensed as she approached, offering a touch that perhaps would have only warmed him through as if it were a sip of the heady stuff he had been given his first night in akashingo.

as it were, given the nature of the very air that sparkled with hunger, he was moved more and vividly.

"germanicus, meadow." his title was heavy and wrong somehow; he wanted to lay it aside. the yellowpaint of his eyes which had until late been so flat in affect now roved to her own. he did not touch her, aware very sharply of the danger that might bring.

and yet his gaze was devouring. "how many?"