misery loves company [othello]

Her softy whine was not something out of sadness, but a cute noise as the two melted into each others frames. Islode posed her a question of her own, testing the water to see just how happy she was. Grinning, the dame pulled her mouth up to rest beside her ear, voice coming out in a delicate whisper. "On a scale of one to ten? Buffalo." She knew that her words made no sense at all, but that was the point. Her feelings towards Isolde were different than anything she had experienced before. She almost felt motherly towards her -- the need to protect her was urgent. But it was deeper than that, something that she couldn't quite put her paw on. She was over the moon though, and didn't quite know how to find the words to tell her that. How to explain something that didn't even make sense in her head was completely passed the woman, Othello had no idea how to put her thoughts to words. "And yourself, little fawn?" Her voice was more heady than before, the feeling of the spotted woman pressed against her was something that wouldn't soon leave her mind.