whatever it takes

The voice of her lover slipped into her dreams, and swirls of colorful dream-web wrapped around her, comforting and loving... but the voice was also in her ears and dragging her up from that dream world into a brighter, colder, harsher reality. As everything crashed back onto her, Qanik remained still, composing herself before she opened her eyes to take in the sight of Flamesong at a polite distance from her den. Her face smooth, betraying none of her unease or pain, the praetor slipped from beneath her den beneath the fallen redwood and took the few steps toward him with dignity and calm... despite the knotting in her stomach. "What can I help you with, Flamesong?" She was surprised to hear her own low voice sound so steady, barely a quaver to it at all. She'd half expected no sound to emerge at all. Yet still did she hate herself for any betraying waver at all, though she did not wince at it as she so wanted to.