Dog Without Flaws

The scent of the younger fae fills Morwenna's nostrils. Sea salt and smoke laced with a tender threat. The whisper of blood and danger run down the wolf dog's spine as a truth. This dire wolf young woman wasn't about flowery language and empty threats. Morwenna could practically taste the battles and spars Calliope had won. The danger thrilled her as Calliope lifted a paw to caress Morwenna's cheek, her heart picking up its pace and quickening her breath.

They hold each other's gaze, their breaths intermingling in the hair's breadth between them. Calliope was a painted dame of pure power.
"Have you ever... felt blood spill from someone's throat that was your own doing?" Morwenna's lips parted to catch her breath, in awe of how Callie was so unabashedly bold. Like a matchstick, she was set aflame and she trembled. With a gentle tilt of her head and lidding her eyes, Morwenna looked up into the dangerous pastels whispering to her.

"Can't say... that I have." She whispers back, a paw daring to lift and run a pad over the fur of Callie's arm.