when i open my eyes
in the morning, i thought of you
i look out the window, i thought of you
The days had passed by with an undercurrent in the air. A slight nervousness that made butterflies in her belly every time those soft amber eyes turned her way or that gentle smile was gracing his features. The most gentle warmth threatened to undo their carefully orchestrated distance from one another. He tended her wounds reminded her to rest every time she attempted to assist him. But now, there was an extra charge of energy - the knowledge that their time isolated away in this cave was coming to a close, and that thought was even more terrifying than the occasional touch to her skin creating electricity where ever he touched, a charge that rocked her to the core.
Nights went by easier, peaceful, when the urge to touch him was weakened by the now unconscious snuggle, as he would hold her as they both settled into sleep, surrounded by shared scents and the soft crunch and crackle of the fire. Would this change when they reached his home? Would she be left to her own devices, curling up with just herself, yearning for his warmth, his comfort, him. She stretched out her ankle, testing the joint carefully from the fresh bandage applied earlier that morning, the wound still tender, but already her weight was supported well enough for her to maneuver around the cave to assist in gathering any supplies he wanted them to have with them for the rest of the journey.
It was a relatively quiet day, and she could feel the slight tension that she wrote off as being a sense of impeding travel, the knowledge that tomorrow would be the first day they would leave this place after being struck by the blizzard, and then giving her enough time to rest. Her eyes aren't on any sort of task she was to be doing. However, her eyes followed him as he busied about the cave as if he were a worker and rushing to get things done. He'd been at it for a while now, and with a sigh, she approaches, still being careful with the tender ankle, even as it's light support of the bandage - she may have to suggest double layering the linens tomorrow before their descent from the mountains, for extra support to help her move better, faster.
But that's a topic for later. Instead, she comes up his side, her muzzle dipping to gently touch his shoulder, and she can smell their combined scents on him, feel the way it did something to her stomach, "Before you say you can't rest, there's too much to do," She starts, unintentionally demonstrating how well they've gotten to know each other, "Just tell me what I can do to assist. And don't even think for a second you can placate me with any 'just rest for me' nonsense. I am feeling well enough to at least help you, and we have to travel down the mountain tomorrow, so I better start off slow now with walking on this ankle again. So, where can I help." Her words are gentled with a playful smile, honey eyes flashing with warmth as she looks up at her medicine man with a gentleness reserved for him alone nowadays.
blankly another passes by again
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: She's like, don't start. Just let me help you.
would you think about me
i thought about you
everything around me gets
coloted by you with familiar scent
The days had simultaneously stretched into eternity and fell far too short. The medic stallion had kept himself busy with creating medicinal pastes for the warrior’s wounds, tearing cloth strips for makeshift bandages, rooting around in his leftover supplies for things to satiate the hunger.
He admitted he looked forward to nothing more than fresh hay and alfalfa cakes that would be waiting for him at home. Gareth was a simple man, and though the canned and preserved fruits had been a delight, he’d intended them to be delicacies, not survival foods. They had begun to settle too sweet on his tongue, sticking in his belly in a way that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but that he knew this diet would not be sustainable long term. He could only imagine how much more that was amplified for Pangaea, who had confessed early on in their mountain expedition that her need for fresh meat was amplified during times of great healing.
The blizzard that had clung to the Arma raged outside for nearly two days, dropping layer after layer of snow onto the landscape. When he had ventured out for more of the fresh powder to turn into water, he had seen drift piles pushed up to various edges of the main cavern, and he felt particularly lucky that his hidden oasis had been spared from the chilling winds. The saurian mare would not have been nearly as comfortable if they had sheltered in the relative open of this part of the cave. Unfortunately, this had also meant that any hot-blooded mammal with any sense about them had also sheltered in place, making the desired meat source nearly impossible to find.
They would have to wait until they descended the mountain tomorrow to begin thinking about those prospects, and even so, it would take them likely upwards of two days to complete, especially with the new snow. It made traveling more dangerous. Gareth was fairly confident that he could lead the injured mare through the treacherous environment, as this side of the Arma was very familiar to him. Still, there had always been room for error, and he didn’t want to dwell too long on the possibilities.
As the stallion moved around the cave, making preparations, he kept glancing towards her, checking her wound. After the first emotionally charged night (he stuffed those feelings down- it was better that way) the swelling had gone down significantly and it had provided him with the chance to weave her flesh together. It had been difficult, rudimentary at best, but it would help kickstart the more complex part of the healing process, and it would protect her better from the elements. She had taken to walking better, even putting more weight on the limb, though he had urged her to not overexert herself, trying to limit her physical activity. There would be plenty more of it to come, anyways. He’d briefly explore the possibility of applying a splint to the leg to provide further support and protection, but that had been very short-lived. The way that the mare’s hind limbs were constructed simply were not compatible with any techniques he might have used to stabilize the ankle, and he would have ended up hobbling her, further limiting her mobility; it would have slowed them down, prevented him from getting her to his home so that he could treat her properly.
His home.
The stallion sighed heavily. Noor would have been waiting for them at the base of the mountains, if not already moved towards home. He had no doubts that his elk companion had been able to make the trek on his own, and would have all but avoided the blizzard that kept them sequestered inside this cave. No, the quiver in his belly was about something else.
He’d been almost certain that if he could just get them beyond this cave, he would come to his senses. After all, the influence of memory was heavy here, and he couldn’t trust himself to believe that what he was feeling wasn’t just desperation and loneliness. It was improper for him to take advantage of the mare in that way. She was vulnerable, indebted to him, trusted him; he couldn’t break that trust, cross the border between medic and patient. He’d never forgive himself if he healed her wounds but broke her heart and spirit. The brute wanted to deny the sparks that had been passing between them, write off the stolen looks, the tender caresses, the intimacy they had come to share.
The coffee and cream coloured draft had been a perfect gentleman, or nearly so. He’d compromised on the comforting touch, holding her while they slept, convinced himself it was for her benefit and nothing more. Would that continue once they made it to his home? Would she want that? Would he?
Gareth hadn’t even realized he’d been standing still, worrying away at this line of thought for several moments until Pangaea ignited his skin with the gentle press of her muzzle to his shoulder blade. He immediately turned his amber gaze to her, maw parted in protest when she beat him to the punch. A glimmer of a smile graced his features as he relaxed, far too pleased with the familiarity in which she spoke.
He relented with soft snort, a chuckle bubbling in his chest. “Alright,” he said. “I’ve mostly finished, but I want to see how much of these,” he motioned to the scarce handful of herbs and the remaining jars of fruit, “we will be able to carry with us. My satchels can only carry so much, but I don’t want to burden you with anything more.
“The last thing we need is you nibbling away at my peaches while trying not to fall down the mountain,” he good naturedly bumped her shoulder in return, playfully calling attention to her enjoyment of the preserves. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen a mare more delighted by the simple mixture than her. It had warmed his heart to watch her perk up in excitement each time he found a different fruit he had stored away, quickly devouring anything that he put in front of her.
As Pangaea had continued to heal, the medic was beginning to see more of who she really was, and the inciting incident had almost been forgotten, pushed to the very recesses of his memory, along with the heartache. Even that, though, had begun to subside, her smile and pleasantly stubborn nature like a balm to his soul.
when i open my eyes
in the morning, i thought of you
i look out the window, i thought of you
Every time he glanced her way, she could feel that attention like a tickle against her skin. Something sweet, soft, lovely, and perfect. It's a whisper against her soul, a promise, a potential flutter of emotion. A question she must ask of Tomorrow. What it may mean, what it may not. Because, as much as she tries to ignore stolen looks, soft touches, the very essence of this man, he draws her in like a moth to the flame and threatening to burn her with another reproach. She handles it with care now. That first night had been electricity, and fire, before they had together dowsed that flame before it could consume and thus destroy them. And while the mutual understanding, the mutual awareness of wrong place, and wrong time made that act the opposite of painful . . . she doubts she'd be able to let him tell her no again.
Because there's something. It's in the way he smiles, the way he holds her at night, the way she settles into his side like she'd done it all her life. It was as easy as breathing as if she'd been born for this purpose, to exist alongside him. And the effortless method they'd formed in joining together, in working around each other - sharing space . . . She also fears Tomorrow what it may bring. When they finally come from the mountains, would this . . . this cautious intimacy crash around her. Would the last bit of familiarity be swallowed up by the public eye watching how the medic treats his patient? Would she sleep alone again, missing his warmth until the wee hours of the morning?
She carefully bottled all of that up, hiding it from her face, from her heart. As long as she pretended everything was expected, as long as he kept himself convinced that all was fine. They were managing. They were ignoring the sparks. They were keeping things the way they needed to. And yet, she couldn't help but wonder - for how long, really? For how long could they hide, could they deny, could they pretend they were just medic and patient? Just friends. Just . . . simple. For how long?
She approached him, her muzzle against his shoulder to announce her presence, and as he turned towards her, she could see him already setting up to offer a protest. The glimmer of his smile, the way he relaxes with her familiarity, makes her stomach do somersaults. The low rumbling chuckle is like a melody she can't get enough of. He was driving her crazy.
But she'd keep the distance he wished for them to achieve, as much of it as she was willing to tolerate at least. Her ears perk when he mentions he's mostly finished before stating he was looking to see how much of the herbs and fruit jars they could carry, mentioning that he didn't want to overburden her. "Just because I'm walking wounded doesn't mean I can't help." She can't deny herself the slight playful pout in response to his own playfully teasing, "Not my fault." She huffed in good nature, unintentionally leaning into his shoulder bump before catching herself after a few seconds and straightening as if nothing had happened, "I don't usually get fruit in the middle of winter, and these ones are perfect!" She added.
She pulled back slightly, removing the temptation from her grasp before she could give in again, this time likely on purpose. Because no matter how hard they walked on the thin ice, it was one crack from releasing that energy again, from bubbling over, from pulling her back into his embrace before she could catch herself. One wrong step and she'd fall back into him, and there's no telling what would happen then.
blankly another passes by again
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: She's like, don't start. Just let me help you.
would you think about me
i thought about you
everything around me gets
coloted by you with familiar scent
The saurian woman was insistent, and it did not surprise the medic in the least. He caught her attentions, the extra pressure that was returned on their shared contact, grateful when she pulled away to tease him. That had become their dance the last several days, not too unlike the steps they had made when traveling to the mountains. They moved around each other, getting close, seeing glimmers before trotting away again, ensuring a safe distance so that neither of them would feel the sting. It was a delicate balance, and he knew that if either of them were to overstep, things would spiral very quickly.
The stallion didn’t quite understand why this woman evoked such a response in him, why she awoke such a deep hunger in his soul. He was determined not to act on it until he knew his actions would be pure, until he knew that he would not hurt her. Gareth had always been a fairly oblivious colt, hadn’t even realized his shared feelings with Salome until she had confided in him years later, once it was too late. Perhaps he was reading things wrong, and in an attempt to prevent another tragedy he was forcing his own narrative on Pangaea, putting meaning in touches and glances that simply weren’t there.
Time would tell.
Coffee and cream twisted locks quivered as the brute shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. He snorted lightly, looking first at the jars, and then to his own satchel.
“I can probably carry a few, but you’ll need something similar,” the medic started murmuring to himself. He cast his gaze about the cavern, the light of the fire bouncing off the various objects strewn across the landscape. “I think the baskets are probably too worn or near to rotting, and I don’t think that would be particularly comfortable anyways…”
He turned around, shifting his weight so that he could look at Pangaea closely, scrutinizing her pale gold body, the appaloosa blanket splashed across her flank. The stallion stepped closer to her, gently running his muzzle across the top of her backside, measuring the width of her hips, murmuring to himself quietly. He hadn’t intended it as a sensual act, the thought didn’t even cross his mind that his touch, unannounced, might be taken the wrong way. Her scent was heady, but he pushed the primal urges away, focusing on the task at hand.
“Maybe,” he muttered, stepping back and following the curve of her belly. While both of them were hardy equines, the mare had a more feminine curve to her features. While Gareth was thick bands of muscle, Pangaea was lean, aerodynamic and built for things that the stallion would only be able to dream of.
He returned his attention to the curve of her side where the leather of her wings attached to the body. He studied it for a long moment, seeming to consider the possibilities. Hot breath and whiskers may have tickled her hide for what seemed like an eternity before the stallion righted himself, stepping away fully.
“I might be able to give you one of my satchels to borrow,” he said, indicating one of the three sets of bags that he had draped across his body and his thick flank. “But I’m not sure how it would fit with your wing structure, unless you allowed me to strap it to you with them closed.” Gareth looked to the makeshift bedding where there was still a large animal hide, the previous owner having been one of the handful of bears that were known to roam the mountains.
“I might be able to toss the hide across your pelt, for warmth and comfort, maybe…” He returned his amber gaze to the mare. “No guarantees, though,” he said, shaking his head. “If you’d like, we can try it here in the cave to see if it’s even possible.”
"Speech" | | @Pangaea | Gareth doesn't know you can't go rubbing people's butts unannounced XD
when i open my eyes
in the morning, i thought of you
i look out the window, i thought of you
It was a dangerous game that they both played. One wrong move. One touch prolonged too long would see it unravel before their eyes. The carefully constructed distance. The repression of those urges and desires. It was a balance act both actively participated in. But with time on their side, Pangaea was uncertain about the future of this unusual addiction. And what it could mean. So tried to keep her mind focused on the preparations for their travel. She could smile when her stomach flip flopped at the sound of his chuckle. Or relish in the warmth his smile brought. But she'd do so silently. She does beam brightly at thevide that he would let her help, her gaze following his as he looked around before he suddenly turned towards her.
Her pelt prickled under the close scrutiny, but it was nothing like how her throat went dry at his step forward, or the way her heart missed a beat in response to his muzzle on her skin. She was frozen still, only her head moving as she spun to stare in disbelief. But this wasn't like that first night, and while her pelt rippled under his touch, she was determined to keep her wits and her control. But why touch THERE
His muttered word is barely noticed as he follows the curveball her belly, the joint of her wings as he breathed softly, whiskers tickling her skin, time standjnfbstm and he rjghtens himself as if he hadn't just threatened every ounce of control she had to not jump him them and there. "W-what was that about?" She starts to demand, skin still stinging bodies he offered her one of his satchels to carry supplies.
His follow up was even more alarming then his attempts to break her control, "B-bind my w-wings." She echoes, shifting nervously at the potential of robbing her of the flight of escape, or flight of attack. "For you . . . I would allow or, if you can promise that it will be safe. My wings are . . . They are my mode of escape and attack. Binding them closed is scary. . . But i trust you to keep me safe, Gareth."
She does like the idea for a hide for warmth though, and finally nods, "Let's try it all on now, just so there are no issues when we do it in the morning. Could you also try wrapping my leg like how you have it now, but more bandaging. It's nice, but I wonder if a but more bandage would help stabilize it more when I walk." she glances up at him, before her wings fold close toher side, as tight as she could make it, "Alright, let's trial this run. She finally says, if only for the chance to feel his muzzle against her skin once more.
blankly another passes by again
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: She's like, don't start. Just let me help you.
would you think about me
i thought about you
everything around me gets
coloted by you with familiar scent
It’s only after the woman provided her stuttering, stunned response that the beast pondered if his investigative technique had been questionable. Sure, he could have eyeballed the distance, but he had always been a more ‘hands on’ learner, and measuring her with his muzzle had seemed to be a simple and efficient solution. His audits flicked, answering flatly, “Just measuring, to make sure it would fit.”
His other suggestions clearly made the mare nervous, her eyes flitting about and shifting her weight uneasily. He had expected her to show resistance to the thought, and the stallion couldn’t blame her for the hesitation. It would have been like asking him to hobble himself, or remove his sight. Her flight was a valuable part of who she was, and how she had survived. Gareth had gained her trust, but perhaps he had not fostered enough for her to truly place her life in his hands. She’d confirmed as much, reiterating her reliance on the appendages, her worries about not being able to defend herself or to escape.
The agreement had surprised him, though. If he promised she would be safe; that was her stipulation. If the brute could make sure that she was protected, that no harm would come to her, she would chance it. He couldn’t help but grin, mirth colouring his vocals. “You must really love my peaches, then,” he teased.
As he moved past the mare to collect the fur from the bedding he pressed his girth to hers in a sign of comfort and support. “I can also take a look at extra wrapping for your leg,” he agreed. “It will probably be more comfortable to you with the cold, too.”
When he returned with the bear hide he draped it across her spine so that it would almost appear like the animal was giving her a particularly flat hug, the limbs of the beast dangling down the length of her own pistons. He carefully unbuckled his own satchel, arranging and rearranging where it would sit in an effort to make sure that it would not rub too uncomfortably against the delicate leather of her wings underneath. He was quiet in his work, the fire providing an intimate glow as he pulled and adjusted the straps under her belly and across her rump.
“There,” he said, nudging the ridge of her spine where it extended to her tail as he finished the last buckle. “That should hold, and keep the hide from slipping, too.” The stallion stepped back, providing her ample space to become accustomed to the feeling of both the large bear fur and the strapping across her wings. If she panicked he was right there to reassure her and they would explore other options.
when i open my eyes
in the morning, i thought of you
i look out the window, i thought of you
The stallion had a way about him that was electrifying. Sorry felt it with each pass of his muzzle along her skin. At his casual answers, she felt the sting of disappointment more than the electricity of his touch. Of course. That was all it would be. Because she was just the patient. It didn't stop her from flushing faintly, embarrassed for reading into it. "Oh, right, of course. Uhm, then do what you must." She states quietly. Before his suggestion shick her to the core.
The panic is slowly subsiding, her breath relaxing, her wings less twitchy. I cannot guarantee I won't steal bites while we travel" she responds with a grin. She is glad he agrees to add extra wrapping to her leg, nodding eagerly. "I'll definitely be eagerly accepting any means to stay warmer."
He adjusts the hide and she noses one of the legs curiously, "what creature was this?" She asks, holding still for him to buckle the piece in place. Even as she stood still for him to place the hide over her, adjusting the pack to her body. Her wings folded down, tucked away. She can feel each shift of her wings, straining against the binding, flinching as she fights the sudden instinct to escape the 'trap' her eyes are slowly going wider and wider until she presses her face into his side, breathing his scent to encourage herself to relax, "I just . . . Need a moment. Instincts are telling me I'm trapped when I'm fine. Once I push past the instincts it should be better." She explains "Just need to remember I'm not trapped, I'm not tied back."
She did feel a little more like a mountain woman now though, the fur warm, the pack smelling of herbs. His gentle nudge, clipping the last buckle on place helping soothe her concerns a little more. As he steps back, she turns a few time, walking around to get used to the feeling before pausing before him again, checking that nothing had slipped before her curious gaze turned to him. "So.... how do I look? She asked with a playful smile, a predator turned into a mountain dame.
Gareth had always been a rather single-minded fellow, in that when he was involved in his work the rest of the world around him disappeared. It had seldom been a problem, as most of his clients preferred to keep idle chatter to a minimum. Pangaea, however, was curious about everything he did, and he struggled sometimes to keep his wits fully about him, often missing questions until his mind finally caught up with him. He worried that she might think him rude, or forgetful, or worse. Still, if the mare was bothered by it, she didn’t show it.
The binding of her flight appendages had caused discomfort, as he had suspected. The woman leaned into him, trying to calm herself. The stallion was grateful for the contact, though he would never say as much aloud. That she sought comfort in him stirred long buried feelings of his protective nature, and the fact that she had put so much trust in him only fueled his desire to make sure that such trust was not misplaced.
Pangaea was a strong woman, and after only a moment she had steadied herself, walking about the cave. He might need to tighten one or two of the straps to keep it fully secured once he added the weight of the fruit jars, but overall he was satisfied with the way things stayed in place as she tested the contraption.
He grinned, giving her a light chuckle. “Marvelous. And even more so now that I know you aren’t going to lose your balance. That’s a large part of what I was worried about. I imagine you use your wings to steady yourself and if they’re bound you don’t have that additional stability.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. “It looks like so long as we take it slow, you should be fine.”
The stallion approached, nuzzling the hide as it draped over her shoulder. “How does the bear feel? Do you think it will be warm enough or do we need to layer it with another blanket?” His words were soft, whispered to her flesh as he lingered, tasting her scent as it mingled with his own. It was pleasing, the mix of their two essences and it was particularly strong where the fur was concerned. They had been sleeping and resting on the hide for the last several days and their combined smells clung to the fibres particularly well.
Gareth passed his muzzle over the thick muscle at Pangaea’s shoulder as he admired her. “Maybe I can fashion you a satchel that accommodates the structure of your wings,” he mused, though the comment was just a fleeting thought. The saurian woman would have to stay for a long while in order for him to draft and redraft patterns to find the right fit and comfort.
when i open my eyes
in the morning, i thought of you
i look out the window, i thought of you
Somewhere along the way she'd gotten used to the way he worked, voicing her questions, but not always expecting an answer while he worked. Didn't stop her from asking of course. Filling the quiet with commentary even if it was one sided. But Pangaea knew that was her downfall, she had to distract herself from unpleasantness. The binding of her wings, general discomfort of normal treatment . . . Her desires to fall into his embrace and forget the world.
She lost some of that distraction as she breathed into his shoulder, taking comfort from hum, calming herself as his scent became the focus of her world. It was just as hard to pull away when she nobminger was panicking about her wings.
The strength, the shelter she felt against him was something she'd longed for, for so long. He was a promise land of stability. And the knowledge it was temporary was the true heaviness. She was only here with him until she got better. So she stepped away testing the pack.
She looks up when he chuckles, and at his words, she grinned, "They do help . . ." She agreed, even as her tail flips, arching through the air, laying over her hip in a slight curl, "But majority of my balance is from my tail." She explains, using her muzzle to part her hair and expose the thick tail hidden within, "My culture is against cutting hair, I bind mine around my tail to control the length, or I'll look like some fairy tale princess." She states with a laugh, letting her tail slide back off her hips with a snap.
He approaches, his muzzle against the hide on her shoulder, and she forces herself to not lean into his touch. When had he become so tempting to her. His smile distracting her thoughts, his scent making her forget herself. His words were soft against her flesh, and she manages to remember how to nod, "I think it should be fine." She speaks just as softly, "I should test it near the entrance to know for sure."
He doesn't remove his muzzle though, passing it along her muscles. Her body seems to instantly relax at the soft touch, and she glances over her back at his words, at how they sound like future plans that makes her heart skip a beat, "You'll have to teach me the herbs you use then, put me to work to pay off the hard work." She teases lightly, laying out the tentative foundation for what might wait for them after she's healed. Her gaze is cautious but sly as she adds in that soft, soft voice, "Not like I'd have anywhere to go right away anyway. Learning my way around Denocte while I regain strength in limb after I heal sounds like a good idea." She said, careful to only say enough to give herself a reason to stay, just in case she was still just reading to far into his bedside manner.
The structure of the saurian woman’s tail was different from what the stallion had expected. He’d assumed that the mass was pure hair. To find that within there was a strong core of muscle, and the realization that she must have grown fabulous locks in order to so cleverly disguise it’s true nature, brought a chuckle from his chest.
“You say that like you don’t already embody a true heroine,” He nudged her shoulder, his vocals light and playful.
“Though I agree,” he said, stepping away, but only enough so that they are no longer touching. He found that being so close to her skin was a dangerous game to be playing with his heart. More importantly, it was dangerous for her. “We should test it against the elements to make sure it will hold up to the journey.”
The medic took a steadying breath, reminding himself that he was here to help her find her feet again, to make her healthy enough to carry on with her life, whether that included him or not. It was unwise to foster attachments while she was still dependent upon him. Gareth wasn’t privy to all the inner workings of psychology, but the thought that their circumstances might breed feelings that were false unsettled him. They had both agreed to save such affections for another time, if they were still applicable, and yet the longer they spent together the harder it was for them to do so.
Perhaps when they reunited with his bonded companion things would become easier on that front. Noor was safe, that much he knew. Though they were a far enough distance that he could not sense the elk’s presence or feel his thoughts, he could tell that his friend was alive and waiting. The brute had heard stories of those who had lost their bonded, of the wretched loneliness, the gaping hole left by their absence. It was something that could drive men to madness, in a desperate bid to join what they had come to know as their other half. A bonded was far more than just a companion- they were like an extension of oneself, and to lose them was nigh unbearable.
Gareth tried not to think about how close they had come to that very fate. How this mare he was growing so fond of would have had every part to play in that tragedy. Noor would have his hide for sure over this. Even when the stallion had spent the previous winter sheltering in this same cave, the elk had come to visit, to check on him, to lecture him on his choices. These things all came from a place of love, he knew. You didn’t chide people for stupid decisions if you didn’t love them, if you didn’t want to see them succeed. He missed the elk’s quick wit and sharp tongue now. Noor would have held no qualms about keeping the medic within his boundaries as a healer.
And yet, without him, it was far too easy to succumb to the beautiful lull that was Pangaea. If the brute didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the warrior had cast some kind of spell over him. “I’ll put you to work, alright,” he chuckled, bumping her shoulder just to touch her once more. “We’ll make sure that your legs are strong again.”
Before desire could overtake him, Gareth stepped away, turning towards the alcove that would lead to the main cavern. “Let’s test that bear hide,” He said over his shoulder, large hooves echoing off of the cave walls as he put a safe distance between him and the mare. “If you have any burning questions about Denocte, I’ll see what I can do to answer them today before we bed down. It wont compare to experiencing the court for yourself, but it should at least give you an idea of what to expect.”
