#bloodclawed

codei rests his head on yasuo’s shoulder . “ i like your voice . you have a nice singing voice . ” he mumbles . “ you should sing more often, bunny . “

at once his song titters into silence. wind blessed & tortured, it seemed fitting for one to be an artist of some kind.      ❛      sounds like bias .     ❜   it’s a simple shift of position, hands moving to cup his husband’s face ever so softly. 

Codei brushed up against him. Yes, he had gotten many pats and kisses from Yasuo already, but doggo brain demanded more. So the big wolf gently situates himself against Yasuo in such a way that kisses and hugs are inevitable

     ❛      hi big boy  .     ❜     it’s soft  ,  serene even  ,  the smile that blooms across rudy countenance is bright  ,  blinding  . fingers are quick to situate themselves within the curls of fur  &  lips follow suit  .  affinity for soft things could lead this second session of pets  &  kisses for hours on end  &  quite frankly  ,  he is perfectly content with that outcome  . 

Codei comes up to him, squats down, snuggles against Yasuo. Somft

     ❛      hey big guy  .      ❜    there’s no need for any confusion due to the sheer size of codei compared to the ronin as well as the only one who could walk up to him  &  do such  .  it also doesn’t help that the swordsman has a penchant for cuddly things  .   fingers comb through the man’s shag of brown hair  ,  choosing to lean his full weight against the other against codei  ,  melting against his body  .  

     there is some solemnity held in the girl’s bones - some world-worn look that lingers in dark eyes as she wanders past the palace walls. it is a beautiful home, and she is not ungrateful for such finery ( marble statues and gowns laced with gold threaded embroidery and fine gossamer sleeves ) - never ungrateful. fawn is well taken care of within the high walls and spiraling spires of the palace. it is what her mother wanted, though probably for the elder sister. part of fawn misses them despite their misdeeds - misses home, misses the smell of the woods after a heavy rainfall, water still clinging to the bark and muddying her feet as she carried buckets towards the well.      she is loathe to admit it to herself silently, much less aloud, but such fine tapestries and doting servants can sometimes feel like a cage of sorts. a very pretty cage - a comfortable one - the sort one might place some exotic speaking bird from far off tropics in - but a cage nonetheless. thus this silent trip away from such things, wearing the simplest of gowns she could find hidden away in her quarters. perhaps it is dangerous and foolish, this small escape. there are those who would surely pay good money to have fawn’s gift as their own. any amount spent would quickly be made back in fine gems.      yet she needs some way away. something that is still hers, that only she can have. and a walk to the well that caused this need to escape seems as good a place as any. the way is familiar - the path well-trod by game and herself and surely others who go to draw water forth day after day. it is so familiar fawn is quickly to notice something off - some difference in the space about her. a woman is further along the way - a woman that strikes some odd feeling in the young queen’s chest. she looks - off. the same way the old woman by the well had looked off. it is a strike that has her stopping her tread without a second thought as she considers perhaps turning around - going back towards the palace and slipping through the back gate once again.