kylar fritz
Flustered and nervous, Nephele hastily apologized. Her cheeks brushed against Kylar's own and the tawny wolf couldn't help but laugh and shake her head. Sniffling once more, the herbalist swallowed so that she could make out words that her wife could understand. At times, however, it was difficult. How could she ever articulate just how much Nephele meant to her? The love that had lifted Kylar out of the depths of despair, that had caught her when she had been drowning in a sea of regret and discomfort? Nephele could have admonished her, she could have taken Anteros' or her niece's side... but no. With that love came a loyalty that Kylar had never experienced in her life. Not from her brother, not from her closest friend.
What words could take that precious first and bring it into meaning? She wasn't sure she knew them. "You didn't make me cry," she said, closing her eyes and leaning into Nephele's chest. Even though she was the larger of the pair, in this moment, she was trying to be a lap dog. She wanted to envelope herself in her pixie-sized wife and never leave the safety of Nephele's black and white fur. "I'm just... so relieved I have you. That's all." And, as Nephele had taught her to do, Kylar shimmied down and pressed her nose to Neph's sternum. I love you. template © bean |
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