Some might find it strange that their two polar personalities could work so well with one another. Then again Zaphkiel has always had a penchant for blowing off things that others might take a bit too seriously. For example how he had prided himself on the scars on his left hip left by the cougar and it's vicious swipe compared to the utterly horrified reaction of his father and sister. It had been a blow to his pride the way they had practically combusted with fury at the scar, as if it did not mark him some grand champion in a battle but forever a victim. They did not have the eye to see the glory in it. The adventure, the strength and heroism of his exploits! Yet the words of Astrid warm him, how she thinks he is strong and amazing (even if she didn't say that word outright).

He presses his hips into the ground as he glances around them to finally take in the whole of Taviora, or what little bit he can see from all the trees and finds that there is a wholesome feeling to this place. Astrid's scent is strong here and to lay in her den pressed against her would ease all suffering he had ever been through. She is strong and has always been capable of being by herself - maybe that is one aspect that drew him to her. The way that she fights against the world with that cautious look and the way she had growled over her meal that first time... such strange things to find attractive for some but easily understood if one knew Zaphkiel.

In this moment he is so overcome with the desire to be near her, even if she stands a few feet apart, that he doesn't even notice the wariness in her eyes or the sudden change in body language. Instead his good eye drifts back to her and rolls across her figure in a languid manner, the same manner that had begun their passions before and had created the catastrophe she was about to spill upon him. His lips peel into a saucy grin at her words. "Aye, what fun indeed? I think I will enjoy trying to worm my way back into your good graces, just promise not to be too hard on me. After all, I have heard many tales about men who must suffer the ire of their mates and I am not sure my heart could take much of it," he exaggerates with a soft whine, ears and face drooping in a pouty manner.

His eyes skip back to the den even as his mind wanders to hunting. Yes, he would feed her dinner tonight in celebration of their first 'moving in together.' Then he would find some feathers around here - with all these trees there had to be tons of birds lurking. Zaphkiel, for some inexplicable reason, did not like birds. He would collect their feathers to make a cozy den for his mate. "Hmm, why?" He says in an offhand manner, not particularly worried about expanding the den until her next words come out. They start out in a jumbled manner and it is only that which draws his attention so rapidly.

Pregnant.

The word is like a gong in his head, repeating and getting louder as his mind frantically tries to piece together what pregnant means. His face is lackluster and slack, eyes staring at her but vacant. Pregnant. As in... pups. As in.... she would have his pups. As in... children. HIS CHILDREN. PUPS! Suddenly his mouth opens as he exhales a sudden breath in surprise, his pupil widening on his good eye and he blinks furiously as he stares at her. Almost stupidly. "We? We are pregnant? But... you can't know. How do you know? You don't LOOK pregnant."

He can't help the way the garbled words plop from his mouth. Zaphkiel does not mean to be insensitive, his mind simply cannot fathom the idea just yet as he abruptly stands and sways. "What do I do? How many? Is there even enough room for us and one? It'll just be one right? I.... are you alright? Do you need food? Are you hungry? Some water?" Each question is faster than the last, his mind jumping from accepting the fact that she is pregnant to trying to decide the best outcome, like one pup, and then realizing that she would need extra attention. What the hell had he gotten himself into.