Greedy Bones

*Sparhawk* · 04-15-2020, 10:52 AM

Bellamy seemed to think about the flask for a long time, her dark face furrowed in consternation. She really did think too much. The mind was a dangerous place to live. In your mind, you were the predator and the prey. If you weren't strong and cunning, your mind would get you. It would be a pity to see this specimen of a woman succumb to her own mental machinations.

Finally, she gave it and drank from the flask. However, instead of sipping, she down the whole thing in one go. The wrinkling of her muzzle when she caught the taste was comical and the big man released a hearty laugh. "Oh, you in for veeery good times now, Miss Bellamy. Usually mead is for sipping." It wouldn't harm her at all. Most likely she would feel a little woozy at worst. At best, she would forget her troubles for a time and would relax. That had been his intent. It was a good thing that he knew how to make mead on his own because he was almost out. He would need a place to brew, however. Brewing wasn't a task for a wolf without a place to rest his head.

The striped woman eventually rose and made her way to his side of the fire. Unceremoniously, she crumpled onto the fur. She was much closer than he assumed she would place herself, but he didn't mind one bit. The warmth pouring off of her was welcome. Besides, Sparhawk embraced who he was. He was a man. She was a woman. It was futile to deny his attraction, and so he wouldn't. Ignoring what was was a waste of effort. Whatever moment took him in life, he rode it.

After laying there for a time, Bellamy spoke. He had to admit that her words surprised him. She must have been holding her thoughts back for a long, long time. The mead had simply loosened her mind and her tongue enough to finally express herself. She was lonely. She couldn't connect with anyone. Yet she somehow felt a connection with him; with his words. Suddenly she looked like a small, vulnerable woman to the brutes red eyes. He could feel her need for closeness and understanding.

Lifting one powerful foreleg, Sparhawk scooped the woman in against his chest in a partial embrace. He could feel her heartbeat and could smell her rich scent so much more clearly now that she was right beneath his nose. Her words about the mead brought a soft chuckle from the man. "Honey mead. The drink of my homeland. You will be okay in the morning." He gave her a little squeeze, quite comfortable with her form pressed against him. "Tonight you are not alone, Bellamy." It was as simple as that. He would be a gentleman, but he sensed that she needed physical contact. Needed some grounding to the world outside of her mind. He was happy to provide that with his simple embrace.

"Speech"

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