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Apple had been joking when she mentioned finding Dante a title of his own special nature, but it made her think of a story Oma Petra had told her once; about warriors sworn to the Dusk royals and other members besides, a ceremony bonding two lives together in a way that transcended all personal feelings but trust. Just one person finding another, someone who would lay their lives on the line for you, to keep your secrets and be an ear to listen, perhaps even council. Someone who knew you and your habits better than you did yourself.
Sworn Swords had fallen from their once gloried status for, Oma said, no more than the hubris of the royals. If the crown princess Islanzadi had herself a loyal protector, perhaps their bloodline wouldn't have been scattered to the winds.
Of course, Petra had also gone on to snort, and say that nowadays, Dusk's just learned to protect themselves. But Apple heard the lesson, and she knew now that it didn't matter how prepared one could be -- someone to watch your back was always a good idea.

After thanking Sparrow with a fat, fresh fish for breakfast and thanks, she set off, keen on finding Dante before he sought her out, for once, a smile on her golden features.

Apple jogged lightly after the trail of the shadow, tail-stump wiggling, gaze bright with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Was she moving too fast? For shit's sake, they'd banged, but she didn't want him to believe that's all he was around for. She still flirted shamelessly with him, but she didn't dare try to get sexual again -- if he wanted to try again, she thought, she would let him come to her.
The air was still sweet, and she wouldn't say she wasn't tempted, but the pent-up energy of the last weeks had been quelled. There were other matters to attend to.

Who knew Apple just needed a bit of dick to stop being such a dick?

The snow-bellied Dusk found him at the edge of the pools overlooking the falls, and she blinked, slowing to a halt and pausing to ease her heavy breaths and observe. He looked... tired, or perhaps just deep in thought -- staring, it seemed, into the water.
Maybe he was fishing?

Mischief welled in her and, with a grin, Apple began to stalk as quietly as she could his way. She didn't need to get all the way up to him, she could just lunge for a surprise anyway, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't have hopes to pounce and take both of them into the shallow pool.

Her heart ached as she watched him lash out and strike the water, hoping she could ease at least some of his worries today. Some part of her worried that scaring him might not be the best course of action but... maybe it could break him from his bad mood, too.
She risked it.
Apple pounced, and flung her small frame at the bulky shadow high enough to send them both sprawling. His head whipped around, alert, and for a moment she thought she'd made the wrong choice.

Then he started laughing. She tried to pull herself to her paws, but Dante made his own lunge, grabbed her, yanked her back into the pool. A giddy squeal left Apple, but she fell easily into his grip.
A ploy!
She threw her weight against him to push him further into the water, and after she splashed down beside him, she aimed a gentle bite for his foreleg, gnawing obnoxiously.

Got you!

Soaked and dripping with frigid water, Apple didn't seem to mind a romp in the water. They could dry off together, warm up together, no big deal! She was making an effort not to be overly sexual, but there was no world in which she could resist touching him. Being affectionate, in its purest form.
Letting him know how adored he was, even if she was afraid to take the next step. Taking it slow wasn't a bad thing, especially after their last foray into uncharted waters.

Be it on purpose or on accident, he slipped a sensual joke in. She'd released the leg when he tensed a little too much for her liking, but grinned at his jest.

You do, thanks for asking, she returned, but left it there. She enjoyed this, and she didn't want to push his comfort. Maybe, in time, he could find it in himself to... try again. If not, well. Life was full of more important things. As long as he wanted to be at her side, nothing else mattered.

She didn't enjoy the way he turned... formal.

So serious, she jabbed casually, I can't manage to find you for a change?

Apple grinned.

I do have a question for you, as it so happens. A... promotion, of sorts, if you're interested.

Mh, she rumbled, as if thinking very hard, I was hoping you'd cracked that secret, it's the only one I'm missing. Look, don't you think I'm growing a fin? She turned to look at her back, but just hurt her own feelings when she noted the scars along her frame, her lack of tail she'd most certainly been about to reference the fanning fur of, nub rising like her tail crested in the air.
A heaviness settled on her, and she lapped up a patch along her spine before twisting back around, the joke festering painfully in the air, ignored.
She hoped he laughed at the dumb attempt of a save.

If nothing else, he did seem light-hearted, throwing a slew of spanish her way. She'd been practicing since his arrival, but even still, he rattled it off with such fluency that she could merely grin in response, features twisting into playful menace, complete with sticking her tongue from the tip of her wrinkled muzzle.

"Kein Grund, unhöflich zu sein, Liebling, es ist unpassend." ( No need to be rude, darling, it's unbefitting. )

But, of course, he wanted to know her purpose. She tried not to let her nerves take over; what if he said no? It was a heavy commitment to the Dusk, a place of honor, especially as the Queen's trusteed warrior. What if this was pressure he couldn't handle? What if he felt the need to say yet?

You aren't obligated to say yes, she prefaced, growing vaguely skittish despite herself, Just to be clear. It's less a real rank, and more a title of honor.

Her heart fluttered like a caged bird.

The older generations of the kingdom had Sworn Swords; warriors, set to protect one person they valued above all others, who take an oath and forge a bond that isn't able to be broken. It's binding, and its... important. Those who swear themselves as Swords can choose to ignore general duties in order to stay by their Chosen, to protect them, keep their secrets, share their ear. In a case like this, a Sword sworn to a royal, you'd be allowed a spot on the council, and to accept new members into the kingdom. You would be my confidant, my closest companion, my right-hand-man, if.. nothing else.

Embarrassment seeped into her cheeks alongside a blush.

I understand if you need to think about it.