The comfortable companionship is instantly there. They do know of one another, though nobody had ever introduced them to one another. And yet, to Amorette, it feels like they already know each other well. Perhaps it is their shared home, the effort put into diplomacy, and the amount of love they have to share.
“It would have been nice if I had thought of this earlier” she replies with a light chuckle in her voice. But alas, the volcano and her fire had been in the center of her mind, and not the its rivalling element. Something she does regret now. “But I can only agree, it does feel damn good.”
Unlike Wound, the ebony woman has struggled with her pregnancy, she still does. She does not regret the deed, nor can she be upset about the father, but she shouldn’t have hoped. They are not, and will not be, the family she wants. It is the truth Amore knows, but which she has yet to find peace with. Because of his absence, Amorette had wrapped the cloak of loneliness around her own shoulders, and she is not a solidary creature.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Wound. I’m Amorette.” Not that they didn’t know each other’s names, but it felt nice to finally exchange these pleasantries. In any other situation Amore would have offered her nose, to exchange scents, but she does not feel the desire to move, her swollen legs are refusing to move.
Another soft groan spills from her lips, as she shifts her weight from one hind leg to the other, again. “Will it ever get better?” she asks, her head dipping a little lower in an attempt to relax. Which was pretty damn hard in her current condition.
Amorette
Quand on n'a que l'amour.
