viii. the shadow.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her silver eyes flicker open and—

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What the—"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen bumps her face into that of a black-winged wolf. A low vibratory growl echoes through the room as claws lace into the fabric of her dress, forcing her back down to the sheets.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She meets the black irises of Morrow's wolf, knowing full well those meadowed hues won't return until the Morrow she knows is back in command. He's supposed to be sedated, asleep, locked up in the spare room, yet he's inches from her features. Morrow studies her, growling over and over again in raspy tones before he dips his face down to her throat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Black wings bristle in satisfaction as his wolfish cheeks caress her pulse. He nuzzles, and it's in that nuzzle that his tail begins to thump against the mattress beneath them. Could his wolf possibly be... happy?

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A rough tongue licks the column of her throat.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Gross.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She attempts to sit up, bringing her hand to the back of Morrow's ears. His wolf is large, larger than Ronyn or Arion. Muscles frame each of his limbs, evidence of his strength. Though runes matte his fur, it still remains strangely soft beneath her touch and her fingers scratch behind his ears. The growl that rumbles from his wolf mimics the sound she secretly adores from him, and her creature can't help but purr in response. Their tether still remains singed, but there's a flutter between their auras that reminds her it still exists.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen manages to sit up, coaxing Morrow's wolf to do the same as he sits on his haunches at the edge of her bed. His black eyes focus solely on her, his wolfish tail wagging against the sheets.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She frowns. "You're supposed to be sedated."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He can't respond. He's a goddamn wolf.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"How'd you get in here?" she breathes.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her eyes drift over to her bedroom door. She made one of the were fix the door that Ronyn broke yesterday morning, to which Ronyn apologised to the palace maintenance for his impulsive and reckless behaviour. The repair-were just grumbled and told him to stop breaking doors, as Ronyn's tally keeps increasing (twenty-four in total!).

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎No response from Morrow, just an extension of his black feathered wings before they tuck in against his back.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Flight. She should have known to lock the balcony.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen points to her bedroom door. "You can't be in here."

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