He is thankful for the starless night. The earth damp and inviting at the touch of his skin, a cool respite from the summer's heat.The moon has been off hiding as well, a deep concealing darkness ensues. This does little to snuff out her glow, patches of dawn shining through what the ground had not marred. He wondered how long she lay there in disregard of her vanity, and what had driven her to do so. Her form felt broken beneath him, from no weight of his own, only that which she bore herself. He had noticed she slept very little, her sunlit pelt graced the nights oftentimes the whole night through.Though he doesn't ask, he never does.
For a time it is quiet, save for the chirping of insects. Their breaths align, a steady rise and fall, the sound is deafening to him. The closeness is foreign to him, for few times had he ever been embraced, let alone embrace another. His mother, he had shared this touch with her, though each more fleeting. He had half expected her to flinch, to start or flee, but she doesn't. Instead she presses a saffron dial into his chest, his heart hammers, he had not noticed before the sound of her own.
He feels her velveteen maw brush the tender skin of his vest before she speaks. He can not bear to look at her now, nor meet her gaze. Breath catching in his throat as she utters simply to 'stay'. Killdare is rooted to the ground, though his mind tells him to go, he fails to get the message to his limbs. A choking, burning sensation grasps his heart, and he speaks. One simple little word, "okay." His blackened lips find the space between her ears, resting on the root of her forelock, breathing heavy warm air into her skin.
Dutiful Soldier|Captain of the Chamber