[mature] The veil of deception; Femur

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

Mark him? Mark him? Why, for his ghost-girl he would plunge the knife directly through his belly, draw it up towards his chest and let the gleaming viscera spool out onto the very beach they stand upon.

Bleed and bleed some more, he’d drain himself if it would satisfy her. This useless pile of flesh, this waste of bone matter and muscle - it meant nothing if she wasn’t there to press her own bodily temple against his, much like she does right now. Longclaw can’t help but to pull his head aside, where she rests so perfectly in the curve of his shoulder, so that he might press a fanged kiss to her waiting forehead.

The thrum of Femur’s voice reverberates through her ivory-patched skin, (his wisp is thinking) and the action rouses a half-hearted grin from his lips. “That place is within you.” He teases, knowing it to be true regardless of his black humor. His nose, (like blue, crushed velvet) draws a lazy circle about the circumference of her flat crown before gliding softly down the length of her nose. He tips his chin to the side, continues on his featherlite journey from her quivering nostrils back up, along the silken fur of her beautiful face until he halts at her cheek.

Another kiss, this one hungrier than the last.

“For us to get there,” He breathes, grinding flat molars together in the back of his mouth, “we would first have to travel here -” He says, lowering his mouth to the shadowy dip of her throat. Quickly, that same mouth drags down the convex of her pretty neck to stop just above the tender rise of her fluttering chest. “- and only then could I begin to peel back the layers.”

He pauses; the wanton heat of his tongue flicks from between his pointed teeth to stroke the apex of her narrow breast.

“That is mine and mine alone. Understand?” He asks, pulling away from beneath her to catch the glint of her obsidian gaze. “Never forget.” He thinks. To feel apart from her was more than enough; rendered free of his grasp, he doubts he would be able to resist hunting her down. “Never leave me.”

Longclaw smiles. “I do, however, have the perfect place for us, should it suit you.” He presses, unable to stifle the pride at the unspoken thought of them sharing a home. He draws close again, tugs lightly at the overwash of pale mane attached to her, and then turns West. “A yellow meranti - the core has long rotted out, but her position in the land made for a perfect den once I dug between her roots.”

“Come with me.” He urges, slipping into his wolf skin before bounding ahead into the dense foliage. They’ll cross only one steaming river, make their way through vine and tangled branch. The glossy leaves of this tropical place grow ever taller, but as they continue one treetop seems to strike out above the rest. It’s there that his den waits; damp and strewn over with litter from misuse.

When at last they reach the foot of his home, nothing seems out of the ordinary. The tree itself is cluttered at her base with other saplings, fighting for every ray of sun that might come glancing down from above. In fact, it would seem as if the tree was intact - impenetrable and unapproachable. Longclaw though, he simply noses past the overhang of wide banana leaves and seems to disappear right into the trunk of the massive growth.

Clever wolf - he’d found the rotted core behind these leaves while sniffing out a family of delicious pheasant, and after some digging to widen the base, made it his own. “Coming?” He calls out to her, just a voice without a face.

@[Femur] Thank you for your patience <3