12/1/2025, 7:54 PM
;; <333
How visible now the falling trail of her tears as Cen’s vow is given breath. His maw is hot, disarming, leaving the silver with no presence of mind to do anything but stand and be kissed. A soft mouth, when the rest of him is so hardened.
Who else might she give this to but Cen? Who else would she follow into the world and all its experiences? All resistance leaves, then—she feels it go in veins that open to him.
There leaps a mild, willing panic.
Leave now? For a quarter moon?
Between three eyes do her’s brush, the imbedded habit of responsibility drilling out this crying wind custom. No other had been informed. The chieftain could not afford to be from his band.
The leather tugs sweetly at her ankle.
