[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

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Duskbreaker had given Euphemia quite a large responsibility to shoulder: to select his new name. A name was a temporary thing for the man (who came from a family that seemingly changed names often), but Euphemia considered names permanent. And thus, her dilemma began: how could she possibly name a man who has already lived not one lifetime, but two?

Now, the task could not be further from the realm of possibility. To breathe was almost too big a task; and indeed, she struggled to do so. She stood for a moment, face tilted downwards, considering the largeness of his paws solemnly. Not a second did she think he did not feel the same as she – the maiden belabored the moment just before she looked up, and accepted that her reality was forever changed.

Their reality.

Eventually, she did look up, and as she gazed at him through saucer-like eyes, she could not feel anything but pure appreciation blossoming in her heart, the warmth of it reaching deep within her. He was moving closer to her, making small shuffling movements that would rub their shoulders together.

The storyteller felt firm, which silently allowed Euphemia permission to be soft. Oh, how soft she was! It was as if she had lost the integrity of her bony infrastructure, melting into him as if the hot sun was blazing and he was her only hope for salvation. For this reason, Euphemia was easily enveloped in an embrace and provided not a sound or a thought of protest.

Instead, she elected to lift her chin and expose the underside of her neck to him so that he could be closer than he would have been otherwise; what was an embrace became nothing more than twirling around one another, and Euphemia sat wrapped up in him, and she expressed a simple wish:

That a hug could bind two bodies into one, and that their scents would chemically bind into something unique to them, and that his eyes would behold nothing more than her forevermore. As Duskbreaker had put it, may their flames combine.

Somewhere buried in all that fur, Euphemia found his ear. You think so? she whispered, words there were only for him, to inquire about the experience that bound them. H-how? the rush of emotions in her voice could not be helped, and she took a moment to steady herself before continuing.

I always thought… the physical tightness in her vocal chords was almost painful. The maiden attempted to breathe through it.

I thought…

Clearly, talking like that wasn’t working. Though she loathed to move, she did press a paw to his chest and pull her head back, no longer intertwined like mating slugs – she now looked at him, the tip of her nose just pressing into his own. Her eyes gazed deeply, feeling as though his own golden gaze was the portal to endless existential understanding. Looking at him, it all became clear.

I thought love was something you’d recognize the very first moment you saw it... She internally grimaced at her accidental use of the word love, but she could not think of a possible alternative she could use. but I was wrong! To be near him no longer felt like peace and recognition – it felt like fire, and it lit her up.

Love can be something you look at a hundred times. And then on the hundred and first time, you see. You finally see.

To address a second use of the word, the soft northerner leaned in close. What else can this be? her words were like honey; thick, cloying, and heavy with intention. More than perhaps she had ever felt in her life before.

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