The long year of wait, something her home land would never have thought was right. Had she stayed by her father’s side she would have been married off to the first male that he saw fit to corral her wayward wandering soul. Eness would not have been given such time to reflect and decide then. Up till the marrying off point she knew Atair wondered and worried; would she say the vows without the presence of their heart? It was a thought at first, Eness feeling as though she had failed them both by not being able to persuade Sakhmet, leaving her to also wonder if she was truly worthy of the attention from her star wearing male.
He catches her easily, not that she gave much fight against him really. Sure she may have squealed her protest at becoming contained under his weight and biting teeth that mark her flesh, but she bares it all and takes what he gives as that is her duty as his wife and soul-sewn. They had waited many seasons for this moment together, when finally they would become one for the night; she didn’t dare put up a fight. He puts at ease her worries of not being enough, and for that she would proudly wear whatever mark he leaves upon her. Despite his roughness and hasty nature at the moment she found her own joy and pleasure alongside him.
When at least he falls from her back, and she takes the moment of silence to better collect herself and swing her haunches away from his greedy graze and wandering nose, does she finally turn her neck so that she may somewhat catch a glance of the wound left behind by his teeth on her withers. With her shifting weight the skin around it pulls and tugs, a most uncomfortable feeling and it also itched.
Eyes close and for a few minutes she basks in the attentive attention of Atair, pressing close to feel the thudding of his heart against his chest, beating just as hard as her own does.