The tension left his shoulders and back as she nuzzled him. He felt her barrel move against the side of his cheek as she took in his own scent. He felt a primal pull in his loins as she pushed her soft flesh against his hard, burned body. And then— then she was pulling away from him?

He felt the loss of her warmth and satin comfort acutely, gaze snapping open in confusion. He had thought they were moving closer towards each other, not putting space between them. He wanted her body very close to his, in the current moment. Eyes, dark blue with desire and feeling, study her humorous smile— and he cannot help his own, nonplussed smile in return. Though he has no idea what he is grinning about. A gift? For him?

He continues to watch her, aroused eyes appreciating the svelte curve of her cream and golden neck as she bends to dislodge something from her mane. His eyes trace the delicate sinew shimmering beneath the silken skin, distracted from whatever she is actually retrieving.

Though his mind abruptly clears from the wanton fog as the lion’s claw comes sharply into focus. He studies it for a moment, face blank and body frozen. His eyes flick to hers, seeing her innocent and happy smile forming around the gift in her mouth. His gift. From her. A gift with meaning— that she saw him through his demons and ghosts and pleasant, moody facade. Saw his outward and inner strength and the power of his kind loyalty.

In a way, it showed him that her choice was him. Not Caleb. Not the Basin. Despite her outward choices. For to give a gift like this showed so much more connection— inward connection and devotion to him. His heart, scarred and burnt— once so hesitant to feel this burn of emotion again— leapt willing into flame. It pounded, almost painfully, in his chest.

Still silent, he moved, bowing his head to pick up a scrap of leather that must have been shredded from someone’s armor or satchel during the fight. Biting it down to a shorter length, he dexterously used his lips to weave it firmly at its base. His thick, soft mouth brushing gently against her dainty, velveteen lips. He watched her eyes during his task, overwhelming intimacy in their closeness. His intent gaze says the thanks that his words cannot.

Then he bows his great head before her, waiting for her to place her gift around his neck. Slowly straightening his neck as she does, he still stays quiet for a moment longer.

“My namesake is the elephant,” he says quietly, deep voice thick with emotion? Longing? Perhaps both. It is all he can think to say, before swiftly moving to envelop her into his body. The elephant is properly overwhelmed, now. Though one thing has become clear, he is hers and she is his. That is the only thing solid and concrete in the havoc of Helovia. “Rexanna, I need you,” his voice is lower, thicker now, as he moves beside her. He needs affirmation. Affirmation of life, of them, of everything.