Chapter Text
The Spring Equinox on Elpis was not unlike the Hatchingtide celebrations back home. The pastel colors and heady aromas of flowers filled the air on the sky islands, petals drifting on the lazy breeze, and D’fhiri was certain she had overheard one of the researchers discussing a growth serum gone out-of-hand.
Seasons were not the same in Elpis as they were at home. That was to say, most of the weather here was artificially induced via magical means anyway, specialized climates being relegated to small pockets in the Ktisis Hyperborea. Elpis was mild even on a winter day — chilly, to be certain, but not snowy. Still, it seemed even the Amaurotines were no strangers to celebrating the shifting of the skies. Being the party-hungry people they were, they sought any opportunity for revelry. And, it seemed, Springtime met the appropriate criteria.
It was a shame D’fhiri had spent much of the available daylight deep beneath the ground, in the foggy trap of Pandaemonium.
After a harrowing descent into the bowels of the facility, clearing monsters in every which direction, Erichthonios suggested that their small group seek out refreshments above-ground.
“Allow me to reinforce the wards once more,” said Themis. He shut his eyes and began to weave the aether through the air. His two companions shared a glance, a frown.
“Actually,” said Erichthonios, laying a hand on his new friend’s shoulder, “I’ve asked a handful of the Warders we’ve rescued to keep watch. We are no use to the safety of Pandaemonium if any one of us is near collapse.”
A moment went by, Themis clearly intending to ignore Erich’s plea. D’fhiri twitched her ears in concern, her plate armor clanking as she shifted.
“It is done,” he said at last, turning around with a beaming smile. Despite his apparent cheeriness, D’fhiri noticed the pallor around his eyes, the tense twitch of the corner of his mouth, the slight lift of his shoulders. He was tense. She’d been there — the burdens of carrying the safety of others were heavy indeed.
His gaze drifted to hers, and she glanced away quickly. Better to not be caught staring. After all, in a world where one’s face was often hidden, what social implications could there be, to have such lingering eyes?
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she teased.
He ducked his head bashfully. “I have been told, on occasion, that my work ethic borders on obsession,” he said. “But believe you me, I have found no offer more tempting in quite some time, than to celebrate the vernal festival with—” He caught himself short, then turned deliberately and beamed at Erichthonios. “With two new friends! Shall we be on our way?”
D’fhiri twitched her ears curiously.
On the surface of Elpis, the festival was surprisingly populated. Bustling attendees moved between stalls and attractions, all within a field of flowers of every shape and color, the bright green, floral scent of springtide in the air. Many faces familiar to D’fhiri from her myriad time spent in the research facility were present, and some even offered a friendly wave, otherwise taking little interest in going out of their way to greet a wayward familiar.
“Do you smell that?” asked Erichthonios. “Honey and cinnamon cakes, I believe. My favorite.”
“I could eat about a dozen,” D’fhiri moaned, clutching her empty stomach. “And sleep for a week. I believe the sun was setting when I entered Pandaemonium.”
Erichthonios furrowed his brow. “Actually, when was the last time either of you slept?”
They exchanged a guilty glance. Erichthonios sighed, pushing his fingers through his crimson hair. “A moment, if you don’t mind. I’ll make arrangements with the staff. Surely we have an available guest room or two somewhere in the facility.”
In his absence, Themis and D’fhiri ambled their way around the festivities. A highly energetic staff member handed them a pamphlet printed on textured, pink paper, flower petals embedded into the surface, outlining the offerings at hand.
For both of them, the first priority was finding sustenance. Once in the queue, Themis stood on tiptoes, attempting to get a better look at the options on offer.
“What an unusual treat,” he enthused. “All of the food seems to be hand-crafted.”
“That’s not usual for you?”
“Should it be?” His expression was bemused.
“Where I’m from, all the food is cooked by hand.”
“Is that so?” He laughed. “Next you’ll tell me that all the ingredients are farmed or gathered, rather than created or conjured.”
She met him with a blank stare. After a moment, his jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious!”
“I am!” she insisted. “Surely the simplest homemade meals are not a delicacy in Amaurot?”
“Perhaps not a delicacy, but unusual nonetheless.”
Disbelief colored her expression. “So you are telling me that you create all your meals? With magic?”
“The technology is there, so why would we not?”
“Isn’t that a bit contradictory? Using your aether to replenish your aether?”
Themis tipped his head. “Do you truly know so little about creation magic?”
She quieted immediately. Despite all her fiery warrior bravado, D’fhiri knew when she had been caught in a conversation entirely out of her depth of knowledge. And here, in an Amaurotine facility, familiar or not, it was unusual to be clueless about the workings of creation magic.
Recalling her first moments on Elpis, and a bit of her time in the shade of Amaurot, she remembered a crucial step — killing a creature and bringing its remains from which to draw the aether needed to create an item of clothing. “So the aether you use is not all your own. But if you must kill a being, why skip the steps of preparing its flesh for consumption?”
“An interesting proposition. But in Amaurot, the aether we use for magic is stored in crystals, not drawn from living beings all around us,” Themis said. “We are not so garish, I assure you.”
“But it is someone’s job, surely, to draw that aether from nature and store it in the stones. And that may involve butchery, the ending of animal lives.”
“Are you not a fan of consuming animal products, then?”
“Of course I am! My ancestors are feline. I have fangs. The first thing I learned as a child, as soon as I could walk, was how to catch fish with my bare hands from the river.” She shook her head. “It is the carelessness of the act, though. The further removed you are from your source of food, the less connected to the land you might feel. The less grateful you are for the life that gave its own to you.”
“An apt observation,” Themis said, propping his chin on his palm as he considered. “I have been taught my entire life that the process is inconsequential, not to mention tidier than the alternative. Our use of creation magic for sustenance is second-nature, convenient. Although I suppose that does not make it the most natural or morally correct process….” He seemed a bit strapped for words, considering heavily, then broke into a laugh. “Forgive me. I am not often questioned on such basic tenets of Amaurotine life.”
She grimaced. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Not at all,” he said, his gaze sparking with interest — no, fondness, perhaps — as he peered down at her. “You challenge me. And I like that very much.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she turned away, making a show of studying their surroundings.
They had reached the front of the line, and after loading up with heaping platters of food — certain to account for Erichthonios’s appetite, as well — they departed much more quickly than they had arrived. They settled at a picnic table made from silvery wood. Themis sat not across from her, but beside her, knee bumping up against hers as they arranged their plates. She ventured to press her own knee back, her stomach leaping with a thrill as he did not retract his. Surely he was no less aware of the private, intimate touch. Despite her ravenous hunger, D’fhiri found her mind continually drifting back to the warmth of his thigh beside hers, the tenuous electricity at the small point of contact.
She hardly knew where to begin with the offerings she had chosen. Among the foods she’d chosen were sparkling grapes and elderberries, heavily spiced and herbed cuts of what smelled like rabbit, and juicy-looking greens with crisp leaves that spiralled on themselves. They had both managed to carry massive cups of honeysuckle mead to the table. That was the first for D’fhiri, her insides warming at the long draught of lightly fizzy, floral drink, feeling as though she were supping on midmorning dew.
“Wow,” she said, wondering how much of the buzz within her was alcohol, and how much was the abundant aether of the food in this time.
Themis chuckled. “Is it that much to your liking?” he asked, before taking a sip of his own. Eyes widened, he swallowed, then nodded vigorously. “Indeed!” he said, and D’fhiri quirked her lips bemusedly.
She crunched on the surprisingly succulent greens she had chosen, while Themis went directly for the oozing honey buns on his platter, taking an enthusiastically large bite. His eyelids fluttered closed, and he hummed in approval.
“Would you like to try these? They’re worth every bit of Erich’s praise.”
She nodded, washing down the bittersweet taste of the greens with a swig of mead. Themis tore off a piece then held it near her face. A jolt of realization — he meant to feed her. She wondered if the blush on her cheeks matched his own sheepish pink. She took the morsel onto her tongue. Themis deliberately swept his thumb on her bottom lip, leaving a small remnant of the sweet icing behind, before bringing it to his own mouth to chastely suck off the excess, his watchful eyes on her all the while.
Flirt, she thought, attempting to dismiss her stirring of excitement at the subtly erotic move.
Even so, the fluffy pastry melted in her mouth, tasting of orange blossom and just a touch of saltiness that reminded her of home. La Noscean summers were always abundant with citrus, which tasted best on the seashore, the brine on the air mixing with the refreshing flavor of the fruit. Tumbling amongst the Bloodshore waves with her brothers, they would rip the pulp from the rind with their teeth, laughing as the juices dribbled down their chins.
“Oh,” said Themis.
Opening her eyes, D’fhiri’s breath caught to find him staring at her with softened gaze and parted lips, a tempest of unmasked adoration.
“What?” she asked, turning away in self-consciousness, tail curling tight over her thigh, ears flattening. It had been some time since she last thought of her childhood with fondness, and she wasnt sure she liked the nostalgia.
“It is only… I’ve not seen you smile before.”
“Surely that’s not true,” she said, although the implied compliment sent her ears to twitch against her head.
“It is,” he insisted, shifting closer to her on the bench. The warmth of his thigh pressed against hers. “I have seen your grimaces of battle, your feral grins of victory, your amused smirks, and even your subtle expressions of bittersweet melancholia. But a true smile, of joy, I have not seen until this moment.”
She dipped her head, and his hand reached around her, found her cheek, gently turned her face back towards him. The overly familiar touch was surprising and new, and she gasped softly. “Do not hide it. Please,” he said. “Tell me, of what were you thinking?”
“My brothers,” she murmured.
He beamed, as if she had just given him the most precious gift, and stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. “I did not know you had siblings.”
“Five, actually. All older. I’ve not spoken to them in a long time. Too long, perhaps.”
“Tell me of them?”
She hesitated for a long moment. The only people she spoke about her family to were Y’shtola and G’raha, because at least they’d understand, and would not judge her choice to leave them behind. They, too, were like her — Seekers of the Sun who had forged their own paths on their own terms, albeit with differing circumstances. With Themis, who had spoken so dispassionately of his own familial connections — would he relate to her at all?
“Well, the one closest to me in age is D’jaya, and he—”
“I’m back!” announced Erichthonios. Themis withdrew his hand from her face, shifting apart so only their knees touched once more, and she felt the absence of his presence like a chill wind.
“Welcome,” Themis said. He gestured at the food. “Please, take your fill.”
“We grabbed extra for you,” D’fhiri affirmed.
“My thanks,” said Erichthonios, immediately going for one of the buns. As he chewed, elation apparent on his face Themis asked, “what errands did you accomplish?”
“Yes,” said Erichthonios, gulping his food between phrases. “I’ve arranged board for the two of you at Poieten Oikos. As it turns out, the festival has brought in a deluge of Elpis alumni, but the master of housing reassured me that she would be able to find suitable quarters for you both. Albeit not as lush as you might be accustomed to,” he said, nodding his head at Themis.
“Nonsense,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I require no more luxury than any other resident of our star.”
“If you truly don’t mind, she said to find her after you’re finished enjoying the festival.” Erichthonios provided a passing description of the woman, and the matter was settled.
Following their shared meal, Erichthonios practically pulled both of them by the wrists to the Docile Terrestrial Creature Tactile Education Exhibit, where a number of beasts of all sizes and degrees of fuzziness were roaming behind wooden fences.
“A petting zoo,” D’fhiri said.
“If you must be crude about it,” Erichthonios said.
Themis chuckled. “It is an aptly succinct descriptor, you must admit.”
As a group, the three of them proceeded to coo over a small variety of animal creations. Some of them, as an attending researcher explained, were meant to be companion animals and kept in the home. Others — such as a being with gangly limbs reminiscent of the horrendous dhalmel, or another with long curved horns and thick, nearly overwhelming fur — were intended for livestock.
D’fhiri was stroking the long snout of a kind of pegasus resting in the soft greenery when Themis approached, a couerl kitten — or its predecessor — in his arms.
He knelt beside her, careful to maneuver his white robes so they wouldn’t become grass-stained. D’fhiri made wide eyes at the small feline, twitching her ears upwards, and began to tease it with her fingers. The kitten’s eyes widened, following her hand, latching on to her knuckle with a clumsy pounce and playful bite. “She has ears like yours,” he said.
A flash of upset. D’fhiri had never been self-conscious about her ears — not before meeting Emet-Selch in the first, before being told she was nothing more than a half-man, unworthy of inheriting the star from him and his brethren. And in light of their slow-growing intimacy, his callous judgement had served to make her feel lesser. Less proud, less confident, less desirable. The wound had healed over — mostly. After all, it had been a little over a year since that particular fallout. Nonetheless, the scar remained.
Her faltering expression must have shown plainly, for Themis widened his eyes in horror. “I did not intend a slight,” he said.
“I know.” She focused back on on the kitten, spreading out on her stomach, propping her cheek on her hand.
A silence that was not entirely awkward fell between them. Still, D’fhiri could feel Themis’s tension in his posture, the way he smoothed the folds of his skirts. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about his comfort. But his words were just one more reminder that they were not the same. That she could not pretend to be the same as him, so thin in aether that she was nothing more than a beast, an amusingly adept familiar at best, in the eyes of most people of his time.
“I know little about you, and even less of your past,” he said at last. “And in this way, you are a mystery to unravel. An enchanting labyrinth of unknowns. It is easy for me to forget that you are more aware of my home than I am of yours, and of how… homogenous my people often strive to be in appearance and behavior. It is not my goal to insult you with comments on our differences.” He met her eyes, mouth softening into a nervous simper. “On the contrary, I find your unconventional features to be fascinating. Alluring, even. And if I may speak plain—”
“Themis,” she interrupted. His mouth shut abruptly, a blush blooming once more on his cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean to offend me. My insecurities are my own, and have little to do with you.”
“That is a relief,” he said.
Still, like a stroke of bad luck, the memory of his voice twisted in confusion and pain rose in her mind.
Thus did I approach you, in my capacity as Emissary, thinking that you would make a useful pawn… but I was wrong.
She had once thought she was using him, too. An alliance of convenience, of stolen, violent little deaths of which no one was the wiser. She had once thought of her body as a weapon, her heart as unwavering as stone. She had been a fool.
The Ascians had taught her that true heroes sacrificed everything for the sake of their world. Even, and especially, their loved ones. Even themselves, if all else failed. Pure determination, and a touch of Hydaelyn’s magic, had always spurred her on, forging ahead with naught but a thread of guidance.
So why could she not sacrifice this?
She must.
Themis pulled her out of her reverie, a pearly, iridescent bloom cupped in his hands. She recognized the Elpis flower instantly — the very thing which had guided her back in time to begin with.
“Flower for your thoughts?” he asked.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took the blossom. Almost as soon as her fingers touched the stem, the petals began to shine with vibrant ultramarine, the edges tinted maroon.
Themis raised his eyebrows. “I had heard these blossoms could change colors, but I have never witnessed the phenomenon myself.”
“It’s only Dynamis,” she said, idly twirling the thick stem between her thumb and fingers. “Consider it an alternative force to aether, influenced by emotion. My people are more susceptible to it than yours.”
“Is that so?” He pressed a fist to his lips, processing the information she’d just provided. She could almost see him examining every angle of it, like he’d just been handed a puzzle. “Where did you say you were from, again?”
“I didn’t.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
She smirked. “You’ll never have heard of it.”
“Allow me to try, at the least.”
“The continent is called Eorzea,” she said. “The province, La Noscea. I grew up near Raincatcher Gully, west of the Bloodshore.”
Surprised and bemused, Themis wrinkled his nose. “You jest! I have never heard of these places.”
“Not yet, at least.”
“I am performing poorly as Emissary, indeed, if I have not even heard of the place my—.” He stumbled on his words, blushing. “That is, the place my friend calls home.”
“Why all these questions?” she asked. “I thought you wished to keep me at a mysterious arm’s length, all the better for your enticement.”
“It seems the only thing I am enticed by today,” he said, “is my ravenous curiosity for everything about you.”
It was her turn to blush, and once again she turned her face away, her chest rising and falling with shallow breath.
She had thought herself long past girlish crushes. And yet, Themis’s sweet but blatant interest in her was indulgently seductive. Unlike any clumsy, drunken flirtations or the culmination of decades of pining, his advances were direct and present, focused on the here and now. Turning her gaze towards him, she caught an expression of hunger in his eyes. She attempted to swallow, but her mouth was dry.
The kitten rolled over and flounced away to some other exhibit.
When she glanced back, his expression had returned to friendly amusement, and she wondered if she might have imagined it.
After receiving the key and instruction from the master of housing, Erichthonios insisted on walking his friends to their lodgings. A pleasant quietude hung between them as they left the warmth and chatter of the festival behind. Although D’fhiri still found the night sky to be bright by her home’s comparison, it was nothing compared to the constantly blazing light that had once plagued the First, and she admired the sparkling sky above nonetheless. The distant whooping and grumble of Elpis creatures made for a serene backdrop, even as they took the teleporter to Poiten Oikos.
D’fhiri had only been here in passing since her initial visit, stopping for errands among the researchers or seeking the magical entrances into the Gymnasium — an admittedly guilty pleasure of hers. Without the pressing anxiety of imparting her apocalyptic story to Emet-Selch, the once-looming locale felt idyllic.
“Where will you stay tonight?” she asked Erichthonios.
“In my quarters in Pandaemonium.”
“You have quarters there?” Her ears perked in surprise. “Pandaemonium doesn’t seem very… homey.”
“Nothing that a few hearth enchantments and potted plants cannot fix! I think my space is rather cozy, all things considered.”
“You shall have to show us, one of these days,” Themis said.
“I refuse to believe plants could thrive in such a place, and I must see it,” D’fhiri agreed.
“Oh, have some faith!”
Once reaching their assigned building, the three of them said their goodbyes.
“I hope you don’t mind that you’ll be sharing a suite,” Erichthonios said. “There should be plenty of room for two people, at least.”
“I am certain we can find a way to survive the evening,” Themis said with warm tranquility.
D’fhiri sat down on the floor to prove her point, while Themis looked upon her with perturbed concern.
“Really, I don’t mind,’ she said. “I’ve spent countless nights sleeping on the ground. This is actually nice, all things considered.” And she wasnt lying — the geometrically patterned carpet on the floor was remarkably plush.
Themis glanced over the singular bed — large enough that it could generously fit an adult, but not so large that two people would not be entirely snug on the length of the mattress. “If you are certain you don’t wish to seek out the master of housing once more,” he said, “I still must insist that you do not sleep on the carpet.”
“I know you’re just being gentlemanly, but I won’t let you—”
“You misunderstand,” he said. He squatted beside her, offering a hand with the nervous twitch of a smile. “After all, the bed would be much more comfortable than the floor, would it not? Some modicum of comfort is deserved, considering the taxing physical effort you’ve put into our investigation.”
She stared at his outstretched hand. The offer was tempting, but knowing he was much more used to the luxury of bedding than her, she hesitated still. “Your own exertions have been just as substantial,” she argued. “I promise, I’ll lose no comfort right here.”
Although skepticism did not leave his face, he dropped his hand to his side, nodding once with a small smile. “If you are so resigned, then far be it from me to push the matter with a warrior such as yourself.”
He stood back up, eyeing her carefully for a moment. Then he began to unlace the ties of his robe, slipping the garment down his bare, pale shoulders. He glanced coyly through his lashes in her direction, before slipping the garment entirely off and draping it over a nearby chair.
A blush spread on her face as she watched him. “What are you doing?” she asked, although the answer was very plain.
“Undressing?” he said, quirking a sly smile at her. “Although my robes are quite comfortable, I do prefer to sleep without such restriction. After all, as you said, mine own comfort is of paramount importance.”
She set her jaw, her breath coming rapidly through her nose. She flicked her ears uncertainly. Whether or not she wanted him was no question — especially as memories of the day flickered in her mind, the way she had been pining pathetically for his touch.
But to acknowledge such attraction… she worried they would cross a threshold of no return. That she would be utterly wrecked by her feelings for him.
“You should get some rest,” he remarked, unlacing his boots and setting them aside, then beginning to work at the clasps of his podea.
“But how am I— when you—.” She was utterly flustered. It was unusual for her to lose her composition. “When you are bared like this only a few fulms away from me?”
As the words left her mouth, the absurdity of it all crashed over her. She was no stranger to the form of man. It was only this particular man whose state of undress rankled her.
He chuckled softly, tipping his head forward as he angled himself in her direction. “What of it? Are you so discomfited by my unclothed form?”
His flirtation was so blatant, and D’fhiri had never felt so flustered. Her ears flattened against her head, and her tail twitched as she considered her next move. She was used to being the one with the upper hand, with playing the part of the alluring seductress. But even when she knew him as only the Ascian Elidibus, he had ever surprised her, had pursued her with unmatched poise and determination despite the somewhat unromantic nature of their relationship.
Themis grew quiet, then drew near her, touching his chest as he spoke with measured, if nervous, cadence. “In truth… I have been unable to think clearly all day. I am quite besotted with you. I wondered, perhaps… if you felt the same. For if so….”
She stared at him, jaw ajar as his words processed, a blush creeping onto her face. “Themis….”
He chuckled nervously. “My apologies for being so bold. I… I only thought… that is—”
She was quiet for a long moment, considering her next move. For the first time, she had the chance to take things slow. To kiss him sweetly for the first time under the pale glow of dazzling stars. If she took this step… what if it shattered every rosy idea she had about him? What if her time with him here was just as fleeting and painful as her time with him in the future?
“We must rest, Themis,” she said.
“Then rest we shall, my star,” he murmured. “But I insist you share the bed with me.” At her continued silence, her paralysis at the idea of making a decision, he continued. “Forgive me my selfishness. But allow me to ask of you one thing. Will you allow me to hold you through the night?”
Ultimately, she could not bear to disappoint Themis. Not when she longed, very much, to explore the emotions that drowned her when she thought of him, to stop clawing for the surface and allow the tide to take her.
She met his eyes, and found there an expression of longing and patience, but of bursting anticipation and anxiety. D’fhiri’s breath shuddered as she made her decision — the only one she was ever going to make, in truth — and nodded. He took her hands and helped her to her feet, then made to finally remove his podea, leaving only his smalls behind.
His form was slender but soft, a body type that had not yet seen battle, but nonetheless held a good deal of youthful muscle tone beneath the surface, which became most apparent in the movement of his back.
Having already freshened up in the suite’s washroom prior to their disagreement about sleeping arrangements, D’fhiri had little buffer between herself and the matter at hand. So instead, she pulled her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her leggings with little fanfare, leaving only her undergarments remaining.
Even so, it was clear that Themis had fixated his eyes upon her, lips parted with appreciation. He swallowed, glancing toward the ceiling. “Compared to the loose robes of Amaurot,” he said, “your clothing already accentuated your form in ways both tantalizing and tasteful. But to see the strength of your body on full display is most….” He cleared his throat. “Stirring.”
She grinned at his attempts to keep proper, sparing only a small glance towards his groin, where his arousal was evident in the bulge of his smallclothes. “I admire your form, as well,” she said. And at last deciding to shed inhibitions, she caught his hand, pulling him towards the bed.
He allowed her to guide him, his every movement careful and exacting, even as his eyes held no such restraint. She watched his vision rove over her curves, lingering where her musculature was most prominent, and she smiled gently, if only to let him know that his attentions were not wholly unwanted.
Silently, he settled beside her, resting his head on a pillow and maintaining eye contact as he traced his fingertips up her arm, resting a warm hand on her waist and guiding her to lay beside him. Ancient bedding and sheets were warm and soft, almost more than any other she’d slept in, and she sank into the mattress as if it were a cloud. Themis pulled the neatly folded blankets up to their shoulders. Even the duvet had a soothing weight to it, seemingly designed to lull someone off to slumber. For all she knew, they might have been enchanted for just that purpose.
A wave of relief and comfort swept over her, and she listened to Themis breathe beside her. Although the cadence of his lungs was slow and controlled, it was shuddering.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered.
He nodded slightly. “I have long admired your grace on the battlefield, the skill with which you wield your axe. Forgive me my restlessness — to have you so close is—”
She drew nearer, until their noses touched, until their mouths were only a breath away. He grew deathly still, breath shallow. Excitement fluttered in her stomach, and she knew she should kiss him, should break this barrier of tension between them so the flood of passion might flow. But she was simply so tired, and her limbs felt as if they were made of lead. Blinking slowly, she was struggling to keep her eyelids open.
“We should sleep,” she said again.
He hummed softly in affirmation. “Turn around?”
She did as she was told, turning so his chest was to her back. He looped an arm around her middle, carefully splaying his fingers across her ribcage, then pulling her flush against him. Warm and soft, he made for a comfortable cuddling partner. He sighed deeply into her hair. Once the initial startle wore off, she wrapped her tail around his thigh. She pulled a pillow closer to nestle her face into.
She did not even have the energy to wish him kind dreams before drifting off to sleep herself.