1/27/2025, 7:59 PM
The bellow bid him to pause and his head snapped in the direction Geraint was coming from. They were nearly tumbling towards him and Nightingale bounded across the snow with heavy breaths. Steam rose from his gaping maw as he collided (gently) into his mate and his voice warbled with emotion as he spoke.
He was trembling from emotion, his concern palpable as he began to inspect Geraint head to toe. Looking for signs of fresh injury, his own body well and healthy and plump. He hadn't seen Geraint in so long, he wondered what had happened to his mate and now he wondered still how they had both come to this strange snowy meadow full of dried wild flowers.
He couldn't find words because his heart was too much a lump in his throat. Instead, he sought to plant his nose in the soft fur of Geraint's shoulder.
Oui, c'est moi, mon cœur,he responded in French. They had each worked on teaching each other their languages but he was so unsure still of speaking Ger's native tongue wrong. At least they both understood one another.
He was trembling from emotion, his concern palpable as he began to inspect Geraint head to toe. Looking for signs of fresh injury, his own body well and healthy and plump. He hadn't seen Geraint in so long, he wondered what had happened to his mate and now he wondered still how they had both come to this strange snowy meadow full of dried wild flowers.
He couldn't find words because his heart was too much a lump in his throat. Instead, he sought to plant his nose in the soft fur of Geraint's shoulder.
Geraint is welcome in any and all of Nightingale's threads at any point.