Swiftcurrent Creek [m] half a mind that keeps the other second guessing

Another kiss is pressed between two fluttering eyelids, the space between Silvertongue's brows just slightly darker than the rest of her forehead. Sounds better when you say it, she all but smirks as her muzzle is pressed to hers, nose to nose, river to creek. 
And it's in this softness, this rose-gold halo that they bathe in, that Silvertongue asks if they will see each other again. Wren's heart murmurs. 
I didn't know you'd want to, there's genuine shock in her comment, a schoolgirl-like nervousness. but-- yes. I'll come see you as often as I can. And you're... I'm sure you're always welcome here. 
She creates some space, but as she does, one paw moves to wrap around her neck, brushed against a feathery cheek. I'm sorry. For being such a bitch. It's not-- you, it's just... y'know. My own issues. I'm a very... angry person, Silver. I'm not easy to care about, and it scares me because I think some people are starting to.