#prettyflyforabirdguy

He creeps through the halls silent as the dead. The dead in the mortal realm, rather, for here they are quite chatty. For now he has little tolerance for tales of bygone days. Every now and then he has to throw in a proper season for good measure; waiting for the harvests to end took more patience than he had to give.

The warmth he exudes never quite penetrates the stone, and he delights at the chill sent up his spine as he makes his way through the palace. He cracks open the door to their chambers, slides through, and is so overwhelmed that all he can do for a moment is compose himself.

Mune’s alseep Mune’s asleep Mune’s asleep ---

Footsteps soft as deer padding on grass, Iie slinks closer to the bed. He sits on the floor, arms crossed atop the mattress pressed against his lips to muffle the low sounds that want to escape as he watches his husband. The rise and fall of his breathing, the soft fluttering of eyelashes, the barest of shifts that sends a few strands of hair spilling down his cheek...

Iie reaches for the floor blindly. He plucks a small, soft-petaled flower bloomed near the curve of his knee. Not wanting the bed to dip and give the game away, he lets his giddy heartbeat take over and he floats.

Carefully, gently, he runs the petals across the span of Mune’s cheekbones and back down to the empty span where Mune’s smile curves. This time, Iie’s not fully able to hold back a soft croon.

So the man is not a magpie, despite being shiny, and he is not another dragon, despite the scales. ( Armor? He thinks the others have called it armor. ) Nor is he mute despite his refusal to talk to Iie. He seems a regular, albeit wet, human. Iie likes the sound of his voice, though, and the way the water tracks off his jaw. It is very unfair the handsome good-sounding human doesn’t take much notice of a fine looking tanuki such as himself.

@prettyflyforabirdguy