Emberwood abeo [m]

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germanicus made their path from the creek to a glowing woodland.

all this treasured forest, known to him.

@Moss followed, and when they were both enconsced in the weald, he turned to her.

now then, in the shadow, he let the blush of her scent rush over him, and came to moss yearning in his debt, pressing his mouth briefly against the side of her throat.

"are you certain?"

*deceased*

Her eyes blackened as they moved. The spirit that had come to her in the second dawn of her life stole into the forefront of her mind and steered her after the silvering man. She watched him, and thought less and less. She felt less and less like herself- and in the few dying moments of whatever she’d been before, she looked upon him when he pressed his muzzle against her with heavy desire.

”Yes” Her voice was a breathy gasp, a plea. Consumed, she breathed in his scent and exhaled, her own breath hot as dragon fire.

:D

he would not ask again.

dragon and roman and fire and tree.

he compelled her with kiss and tongue drifting to more malleable parts of her body; he was not selfish despite knowing this was a debt.

and when the time came, germanicus joined them with a controlled motion, forelegs holding the tension as her nape was burned with his exhale.

a moment; then movement, and he allowed the world to fall away, guilted even in his complete pleasure.

Under his touch, her flesh grew numb but she reached for him nevertheless as though to seek out some sensation. She became more ardent the more she was denied the answer to her curiosity. Shock spread through her as Germanicus’ debt at last was paid. In the moment of stillness she caught a fleeting chill rising along her spine- but otherwise, she felt nothing but weight and pressure. 

These lifted, afterwards. She felt pale, cold; she licked her lips, revealing a glimpse of pale gums. Tired and weakened by the rush of adrenaline, she settled quietly on the ground so that she could avoid a dizzy spell, and began to clean herself.

germanicus caught his breath in easy inhales; he watched the flicker of her tongue and how she had become cooler in the small moments thereafter.

to take, he understood perhaps a woman would want a man more than once.

but moss seemed closed off to him.

the roman only lifted his head then, surveying the foliage in instinctive protection of her.

he would leave when bidden, or escort her back to the creek.

She regained her strength slowly, as she preened her pelt, as though with every lick of her tongue she sought to awaken her skin once more. The sensation did not return, and she continued to feel unusually cold. So she cleaned herself thoroughly, aware that he was standing guard. 

Once she was satisfied, she sat up. She gazed at him for a moment, wondering if the one act would suffice. She felt herself convinced that at the very least, that was all she would ask from him. If she did not conceive, then she would meet her fate with no chance of redemption. 

”You owe nothing else. Whatever spirit dwelled within you, it is now within me, to be bound with my own. Go. Live your life.” 

The great cask of Moss turned, then, to head back for the Creek.

spirit. 

dwelling.
 
the breath left him and though he could not say it;

had she too taken him for a witch?

in silence the roman watched moss depart, and in equal quiet he moved off in an arc toward kvarsheim.

shame, perhaps, late to set in.