..Less colourful, though. [She's still staring at him. It's just..so good to hear his voice.
The loss of him is the cause of that visible ache, knowledge of their failure to protect him, fury at the machinations of a vile woman who's dismembered corpse is now destined to be the ugliest tree on Glintshore. There are so many reasons for the wave of emotions she feels, many of which she doesn't dare look at too closely (or she'd have to admit something she isn't quite ready to yet), but all she can hear is "good".
Good, as if there wasn't anything else to be said.
And perhaps there isn't. That fight is over now. Has been over for him for a year, in fact. She's the one playing catch up.
And so it is that at the end of his comparison to the Feywild --one she will certain discuss the merits of later-- she moves, instinct overriding natural caution as she becomes a blur of dark hair and red scales. Moving, so that she might throw her arms around him. Part of her almost expects to pass straight through, to find all this to be the illusion she fears it is, but instead taloned hands find purchase along the back of his coat, and she buries her face into his shoulder.
Behind her, the wings flare open, stretching wide, before mantling around witch-man and monster-elf. A secondary hug; a shield from prying eyes. ]
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The loss of him is the cause of that visible ache, knowledge of their failure to protect him, fury at the machinations of a vile woman who's dismembered corpse is now destined to be the ugliest tree on Glintshore. There are so many reasons for the wave of emotions she feels, many of which she doesn't dare look at too closely (or she'd have to admit something she isn't quite ready to yet), but all she can hear is "good".
Good, as if there wasn't anything else to be said.
And perhaps there isn't. That fight is over now. Has been over for him for a year, in fact. She's the one playing catch up.
And so it is that at the end of his comparison to the Feywild --one she will certain discuss the merits of later-- she moves, instinct overriding natural caution as she becomes a blur of dark hair and red scales. Moving, so that she might throw her arms around him. Part of her almost expects to pass straight through, to find all this to be the illusion she fears it is, but instead taloned hands find purchase along the back of his coat, and she buries her face into his shoulder.
Behind her, the wings flare open, stretching wide, before mantling around witch-man and monster-elf. A secondary hug; a shield from prying eyes. ]