Sarira’s soft voice startles Azrael from his thoughts, and he looks over to her with a softly apologetic gaze, mostly for his twitch of surprise, but also for the time since he’s last seen her. He smiles, shaking off his surprise and turning to greet her with a soft whicker.

"It’s a good one to toss my fears to, though," he says with a grin. "It eats them right up and forgets them right away." Azrael turns his smokey muzzle back to the glittering morning waves. It’s rather cathartic to imagine his troubles thrown freely into the tide, to be washed away and lost. He wishes it were that simple. Tilting his chiseled head back to Sarira, Azrael turns fully to face her, as she asks if he’s noticed a change.

Az cocks his head to the side, Caribbean blue eyes shifting playfully over her russet red coat. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, and he gazes stupidly at her for a long moment – not a clue what he’s looking for, mostly just appreciating her beauty and trying to find something to comment on to make her flutter her lashes at him like she did the last time they were together.

Then he stumbles across the change and his eyes widen a second time in surprise. There had been a distinct tuck of flesh and muscle between Sarira’s rib cage and belly that has now smoothed out. The mahogany fur sits glossy and unbroken over a round and gently swollen barrel, and though Azrael is young, he knows exactly what this means. "Sarira," he breathes, "Really?" as though it might just be a dream or a trick of the light. His anxieties are forgotten, metaphorically tossed over his shoulder into the gentle surf, to be eaten right up and forgotten right away. He closes the distance between them and curls warmly around the slender sooty mare, his heart thundering with excitement. "I feel bad," he confesses, but his tone is good-natured. "I haven’t seen you in so long – I forgot that this might happen." Affectionately, he runs his whiskered muzzle along the delicate curve of her neck, his fear and doubt washed thoroughly from his mind.