[He's a precious thing. All teeth and a lolling tongue, wriggling hindquarters leading the charge after forepaws plod eagerly back and forth— alertness bathed in recognition like a banner, unmistakable at its height— and it only grows once close. Snuffling and snorting and happy, hot puffs of breath filling the whole of Astarion's vision.
His damp, fussy, squinted vision. Assailed by a snout the size of his head, hissing on matching reflex— albeit just the mouthy, affectionate protests all pack creatures have, regardless of species: a cub will squall at its mother, a kitten will wail, bats— Well, bats have their own way.]
Yes yes hello— that's— [With slight effort, his wing-claws push up against the wet tip of leto's nose, signaling that his transformed mate's had enough of a smell. Honestly he'd normally be shrieking by now if either of the pups were the ones butting eagerly into his space, but as things are, he's tugging and reaching with his little talons trying to get a better look at him with half-blind vision.
His book still laid out flat on the nearby rocky shelf he'd been using as a perch beforehand, though it needn't have been so fastidiously obscured: there's no one else beneath the temple anyway. Only the lapping of the risen tide and whatever noises they both make.]
Selûne's tits, it truly is you, isn't it? What an adorable thing you are— the spitting image of your id.
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His damp, fussy, squinted vision. Assailed by a snout the size of his head, hissing on matching reflex— albeit just the mouthy, affectionate protests all pack creatures have, regardless of species: a cub will squall at its mother, a kitten will wail, bats—
Well, bats have their own way.]
Yes yes hello— that's— [With slight effort, his wing-claws push up against the wet tip of leto's nose, signaling that his transformed mate's had enough of a smell. Honestly he'd normally be shrieking by now if either of the pups were the ones butting eagerly into his space, but as things are, he's tugging and reaching with his little talons trying to get a better look at him with half-blind vision.
His book still laid out flat on the nearby rocky shelf he'd been using as a perch beforehand, though it needn't have been so fastidiously obscured: there's no one else beneath the temple anyway. Only the lapping of the risen tide and whatever noises they both make.]
Selûne's tits, it truly is you, isn't it? What an adorable thing you are— the spitting image of your id.
....And the twins'.