Every touch that she offers him only draws her closer into his net. Praetor is the pure kind of soul who seeks only for her happiness; she does not worry that jealousy will ripple across his face or greed. She does not fret that he will challenge against her to steal her throne. She does not feel that he will take more than she is willing to give, and perhaps because of that she is willing to give more than she thought possible. He had been there when she had needed him after the death of Kaius and the resurfacing of her hateful memories. Slowly, with his presence, he had expunged all of them from her recent thoughts so that each morning she arose with a sense of completion knowing he was nearby. Praetor had stolen a piece of her and in the beginning she had been tempted to ask for it back - even if that is not how it worked. Now she was certain she wanted him to keep it because with him bearing her burdens as well she was much lighter. It was... selfish. But she couldn't stop the way her emerald eyes seemed to brighten when they alighted on his gray and black and red figure or the way her paws seemed to pick up extra speed to draw her closer. She was a moth to his flame and she did not mind, in these moments, to get burned.

He had chosen a beautiful spot with the green of what little life in the land was left against the backdrop of snow. It was almost surreal - moss and flakes and Praetor waiting in the midst with that happy look on his face, the way his tail seemed to arc in slow motion across the ground. She could feel his happiness through their bond and her own joy spiked with it, a rare lightness settling around her. The worry of the world melts away in his presence as she moves to his side to drink in the feel, the warmth, and the scent of him.

Aithne... her name off his lips makes her shiver and it is strange, the feeling that settles within her gut. Awkward almost for she feels a sensation of burning and hunger within her that is alien and so she ignores it for the moment, choosing to focus on the happiness that comes with his presence. The touch of his forehead against her head makes her jaws part in a sigh and she is ultimately glad that she had bathed this day. She is not a creature of comfort or beauty but in his presence she desires to feel beautiful, to feel... feminine? How odd, how different, yet it seems the perfect thing. Natural with him.

She slowly pulls her own head back and moves so that she sits beside of him now, their sides brushing all down their bodies, unable to refrain from such a complete touch. Each time she sees him she grows more bold, more sure in her presence and in her touch, not nearly as skittish as she had once been. Praetor is a safety harbor for her and he never takes more. "I am sorry to have made you wait so long. It has been.. difficult, with Andras's death and Raven's disappearance. I have been searching for her and I am confident I will find her. I only hope that she is alive when I do." Her last words come out soft and tremulous, worry evident. She clears her features then, shaking her head before turning her face towards him. "What of you, Praetor, how have you been? I forget that you have not been long to the marshes and that you have lost so much. Do you miss Glorall very much?"

Six - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne