9/5/2024, 9:07 PM
Francis pondered her question for a moment, however joking it was.
Let you fly free, and catch you when the wind died.He swayed his tail, finding the answer satisfactory.
It probably wasn't true. He'd stumble after her, half mad and half dead from worry if her feet were no longer touching the ground - if she floated higher, the sun threatening to melt her wings. He'd chase her like a moth after a flame. But he'd be captivated by her all the while, he supposed, for there was no way the woman beside him would fail to make even the most bizarre and frightening things look more ethereal than a painting. She'd just proven it, a ways back, leaping through the flames like some kind of fearless nymph.
I do not understand, Kairos went on, and Francis tilted his head down toward her, ears pricked attentively.
....Miss Parthenon.The urge to use her name, to appeal to her intimately and fondly, was there. He was neither that stupid or brave, though.
A book isn't made more valuable by how many different words it has in it - a pleasant read comes from how each chapter is its own, building on what came before but unique in its own manner.
He paused for her to consider the metaphor.
Besides, you are a novel all your own, my lady - not just a fleeting chapter in my life, but a saga for me to discover in due time, if you permit it. I....do not open my own book very easily, as it were.He paused.
With you, it is made easier. And you have not taken any advantage of that, and I...know how rare such a gift is.
Her choice, she went on to say, was him.
He could smell sweet lemon and smoky flora, his muzzle hovering inches from her auburn and ivory fur, as she spoke. Firm as always, determined to stand her ground upon those details she was certain she was right in.
She would choose him, again and again, Kairos threatened, and it was a true threat now. One that left Francis feeling weak and dizzy, frightened. He shouldn't be....He wasn't sure what to call it. They had no relationship that was improper. Maybe a little more informal and close than they may have been permitted to have in his previous life - but that was then. This was now, and this was not....It wasn't anything, so he shouldn't feel guilty for leading her on.
But he knows, he can't forget how severely he failed everyone he cared about before. He tilted his head slightly to meet her gaze, the faintly ripping sensation behind his sternum worsening as he realized there were unshed tears glittering in her gaze.
Oh, but he was a cad, an ass, a reprehensible beast for such things he's done to her, and he wishes the earth would swallow him whole for it.
Don't cry,The Prince murmured. He feared he'd fold if she did, and promise to stay far from danger - he'd rather her be upset now than be betrayed later when he undoubtedly failed to keep such a promise.
She lifted her chin, firmly closing off the conversation with her final statement.
Gods, he thought, Helene would have loved her.
He wouldn't compare the two, really. He couldn't compare them - He was incapable of fitting Kairos into the space in his heart and mind his late wife still occupied. Helene was dead, the memory of her body in his arms still fresh despite the different body he occupied, and Kairos was her own woman.
I will not argue it. I will not turn away your aid, if you'll accept my own.He was tempted to apologize again, for almost making her cry. He settled for, if Kairos would accept it, gently brushing his nose against the shell of her ear. His heart flipped - his stomach following in kind as he told himself he should regret it.
He couldn't find the familiar sensation anywhere within him, though.
