“Stay,” he warned, wanting to keep her near as aggression flared within. He did, however, loosen his grip so it wasn’t hurting her. “We will find Aleron his own Emerie,” he decided. Then he nodded, agreeing with himself wholeheartedly. “We will not share you. Not like this.”
“Ingram,” she huffed out in exasperation, like what he said didn’t appease whatever objections she had.
Now that he’d placated his own concerns, joy filled him once more at Aleron learning all about pleasure, but with someone else. Yes, that would please him, and then there would be… four of them.
More companions, more people sharing their bond.
His tail tip tapped against the ground as he pictured it. One of his fondest memories with Aleron was sitting on a hill just like this one and staring up at the night sky, wondering what those twinkling dots were – Emerie had told him they were called stars. Doing so again, but with this little female and his kindred, sounded like bliss.
It would be even better if there were more butterflies in her hair, like the many that had latched on now.
He lifted his skull to the sky as tenderness bloomed at the picture he conjured. His tail curled so hard it turned into multiple rings halfway down to the base. A fluffy, pleasant feeling sprouted in his torso.
When the image was gone, but not the lingering emotions, he looked upon her. With a chuckle, feeling lighter than he had since his kindred left him, he fully wrapped his arm around Emerie. Then he laid back against the grass and pulled her to his side until she was lying against him as well.
A swarm of butterflies lifted off and fled from him and the surrounding area.
She tried to sit up, but he tugged her back down.
“What are you doing?” Her body tensed in his grasp.
“I am supposed to be sleeping. I wish to rest now.”
He’d like to relax with this warmth in his chest, something he’d only ever experienced within Aleron’s feathery wings.
“Yeah, but I need to stay awake and watch out for danger.”
He lifted his hand to gesture to the sky. “The sun is bright, Emerie. No Demons will come while it shields us. Sleep, enjoy its heat.”
She lifted onto her elbows, since he wouldn’t let her go any higher. She pursed her lips at him. “If I have a nap, I won’t sleep properly tonight.”
“Then don’t sleep,” he stated, lifting his skull so he could tilt it at her. “I prefer carrying you while you are awake.”
She nibbled at her bottom lip, catching his attention. He remembered them being soft against his neck, and how they’d whispered little brushes against his scales.
“Okay, fine,” she grumbled, lying back down and turning to her side with her forehead pressing against him. She stroked his side, petting him like she often did. “This area really is lovely, and the sun does feel cosy.”
Lovely… cosy… I like these words. He added them to the list of the many, many others she’d taught him in their short time together. As well as the few he associated with her.
He watched a cloud float past, wondering why he wasn’t ready to drift off yet. Then, he realised the problem and grabbed her plump backside so he could slide her up until her head was cushioned on his biceps. He wrapped his hand around her knee to keep her to him, his body surrounding her from all sides.
With his other arm, both legs, and tail straight and spread out from his centre, Ingram closed his sight. Perfect.
Emerie held the sides of her thigh to brace it, while mentally preparing to wince. She never did, even when the Duskwalker carefully dabbed at her wounds with a hot, damp cloth.
There was a gaping hole in her pants, purposefully made so she could tend to her wound freely without having to take them off during their travels. Emerie was not willing to forgo pants with this guy around.
With her straightened leg on top of his thigh, he was being very cautious of his claws. His purple tongue even slipped out the side of his beak in deep concentration.
She had to bite her lips shut to stop herself from laughing.
I still can’t believe I’m letting him do this, she thought, just as Ingram dunked the cloth back into the metal cup filled with boiled water.
He’d pestered her about it. Pushing and pleading to let him take care of her wound ever since the moment it happened. She’d said no the first few days, especially since cleaning it had caused droplets of blood to well. Now that it’d been quite a few days and the four punctures were well and truly scabbed over and mending, she didn’t see the point in denying him.
He wanted to make up for them, to aid her in any way possible.
Other than the pain each step gave her, and the way the fucking thing itched, the worst part about this was caring for it.
It’d taken her a long time to get used to fire after her incident when she was nineteen.
She wasn’t comfortable, less in fear of it and more at the triggering of the memories and anxiety it brought. However, fire was essential to life for a human, so she was forced to suck it up and make it whenever it was required. For instance, for boiling purposes so she didn’t use unsanitary water on her injuries and cause infections – or give herself parasites.
Opening a jar for him, Emerie gave Ingram her medicinal salve.
She remembered the first time he’d tried digging into the yellowy ointment and took out far too much. Now, he used the back of his claw to obtain only a small amount. He wiped it next to the wound and then lightly used the back of his knuckle to apply it to the four scabs.
Once he was done, he handed back the jar so she could put it away.
“Alright, Doc. What do I owe you?” His head jerked to the side, making the sound of dry bones rattling. “All I’ve got on me is a berry and some string. Will that be enough?”
His head tilted the other way, orbs morphing to a dark yellow. “I don’t want anything for helping you, Emerie. I want to make up for hurting you.”
Her lips flattened as she tried to stifle her grin.
“It’s a joke. You know… like ha ha?”
“You are not very funny, Emerie,” he stated bluntly.
“I’m just trying to make you laugh again,” she answered, before pouting her bottom lip forward.
Ever since the day on the hill, she had made it her mission to get this Duskwalker to laugh again. It wasn’t going well. He was absolutely right in the fact that Emerie wasn’t very funny, and even if she was, most of the time her jokes didn’t register in that brain of his.
Ingram reached out and cupped the left side of her face. She was growing used to it, since he’d been doing it more frequently. She no longer flinched. He rubbed his thumb against her protruding bottom lip, dragging it down further, then letting it flick back into place.
“I like it when you do this.”
And I like it when you do that, her thoughts answered, resisting the urge to lean into his massive, rough palm.
She thought Ingram may have been the first person to ever hold or touch the scarred side of her face. He only deepened the tingling sensation within her heart when he pushed his hand further back, threading his fingers into her hair so he could brush her cheek, and the webbed texture of it, with his thumb.
When that tingling sensation began to gnaw like a festering wound, she reached up with both hands to grab his wrist and pull his hand away from her.