He’s right, of course, it doesn’t matter. And although her worries never truly fade, (they have been a constant companion for a good century after all) they are brushed aside in this moment. Every kiss, every nip, every time she can hear or feel his smile is another push against her concerns until she can think of nothing else except for him. Her eyes slide close at his attention, the battle against the tears already lost, and she leans into every touch.
For the first time in a very, very long time at least they are tears of joy.
Her head feels light and dizzy when he pulls back, eyes opening once more to look at him.
We’re here, he says, and she has to believe that is enough.
“I love you so much.” Because whatever happens next, whatever the future is, she knows this is true. It has always been true – and she cannot let another second go by without saying it to him. Not murmured in goodbye, not whispered to the stars while she stood alone beneath them, but spoken directly to him.
If this is a trick, it is of the worst kind – but the longer she stands here, breathing in his familiar (and yet strange) scent, she is not sure she cares either. Even if it is a trick, even if it all falls apart in the next few seconds, she’s got this moment. She is feeling less like a ghost in this very instant than she has felt ever since she has come back to Beqanna. His touch reminding her that she is alive.
It is her turn to move towards him again, unsatisfied with even the small bit of distance between them, and her muzzle brushing against his cheek, a line down his neck.
“Have you been flying?” She asks because it’s easier than asking anything else at this point, a smile lighting up her dark eyes as she breathes gentle air to stir the feathers at his shoulder.
