Desreal: to my beloved Nacht;

He enjoys getting under her skin. He enjoys annoying her. He enjoys pissing her off and angering her to the point of wanting to kill him. It keeps their relationship interesting, and keeps her at an emotional arms length where she can’t really hurt him when she does get angry. At least, that is what he tells himself, that he is invincible to her moods and harsh words -in the rare instances that they were uttered. In truth, he has never stopped caring for his little black cat, the one that hissed and spit at him more often than not, but damn. When she was actually in a half-decent mood, she was well worth being around.

So yes, he planned it that way.

But unlike Nacht, he has thought about her every day since she left, if only for a passing second when he sees a strange black face, when he catches a certain taint on the wind. And of course, he is thinking about how she left: in a flurry of scandal and rumours, none of which he would willingly believe. She couldn’t have done something that reckless, couldn’t, wouldn’t. That was not the way she was.

His skin comes alive, pulses with heat and electricity as her muzzle skims across his strong neck. His own muzzle traces intricate webs of touch across her black nape, merging memories with reality. Her soft words, her little pet name for him, cause those delicate fox ears to twitch back ever so slightly, but he leaves the barb go unnoticed. After all, he had provoked her into using it against him. They twitch back quickly enough as she continues to speak, and he draws back ever so slightly from her, immediately missing the warmth of her flesh, however fuzzy it might be from the season.

“There were a few things they tried to make me believe, my love, but I couldn’t accept any of them with willingness.... The elders said that you failed to complete your mission entirely, that you defied orders willingly and then fled so as not to incur their wrath...” He is serious for once, and his silver eyes flash towards hers with a look that begs her to tell him the truth of what happened, begs her to help him understand. It made no sense, why would she just leave? She wouldn’t. There had to be a reason.

He knows it will be hard for her, because she is Nacht, and because he knows her just as well as he knows his own skin, and with that in mind he steps close to her again, melding his larger body around hers, craning his pearl neck over her withers in silent embrace, waiting for her to speak. He will wait as long as it takes, because he knows it will eventually come. In the mean time, he lets himself drift along in a feeling of right, letting her remembered scent refresh itself as he rests against her. There will come a time for them to go back to their old selves, but for now, he must reassure her, comfort her, because he knows that is what she needs. He doesn’t know how, but the feeling is there all the same.