Ashamin, preoccupied with his fatherly watch over the scene and his conversation with Johnny, didn't notice Rexanna coming up behind him. The tracing of the feather on his hindquarter was at first just a tickle like breath, but it quickly became a quicker sensation that he had to fight off. The haruspex froze, standing stiff as if in some sort of body-locked fear, and his two bondeds let out quiet brays in gentle mocking. After all, one didn't expect the warrior buck to be ticklish, did they?

Ashamin had wanted to insist that Johnny need not make an outing, but Rexanna's little act had him too shocked to reply with anything more than a stiff nod. As he slowly relaxed and curled back his head--watching Johnny go, seeing Rexanna paint--his two companions moved from their paintings on the tent canvas to stand beside their bonded. Their noses, still wet with red and black paint, turned up and pressed eagerly against Rexanna's swollen belly, just below the hip. Ashamin, eager to return her gesture, swiped a bit of blue paint from the wet lingering on his left and connected a line to those made by his companions. Together they created a knotted symbol, one of motherhood to pair with the fatherhood Rexanna had marked on him. Just as Rexanna did not break their silence, Ashamin only gave her a soft smile. Their connection, whatever it was, need not be marred by any further complication. He would treasure the mark she'd left on him just as he would treasure their friendship and their child.

After a time Johnny returned, materials floating about him, and made magic as usual. As always, watching Johnny work was a pleasure. Ashamin didn't plan to delay in thanking the weaver, but as so often happened time got away from him and others arrived and left. What came next brought with it nothing but hurt.

Hotaru, whom Ashamin had not seen since their last encounter (when he had asked for the force of her storm on the mountain,) arrived like an elegant whisper. She said little, gracing the tents inhabitants with her presence but never lingering long. Ashamin watched, something sparking within him (jealousy?) as she touched her delicate lips to the reaper and walked away without harm.

He did not expect her to draw close to him--not with the pain of their last encounter still clear on his flanks and breast, not with the hurt of it so obvious in her eyes when they met the haruspex's. But she did come closer, she took one step after another until finally she was before him. He listened to her heartbeat, drew it into his own breast with as much comfort as he could provide, and let his eyes close as she drew closer with paint upon her nose. His head dipped, his breath was steady at first and then uneven, choppy with something like desire, as she touched him.

It was so tender, so delicate, and so precise all at once. The careful maneuvering so that he did not even feel her horn, the perfection of her touch that was so far the opposite of her magic's fury. This was the Hotaru that Ashamin knew, and the Hotaru that the haruspex believed, perhaps, no one else did. His two companions watched, Rakt in vague curiosity and Lochan in perfect wonder, as the exchange took place. Hotaru's words, a whisper, struck Ashamin with the same force as her electric magic. All of it, it hurt just as much.

Ashamin spoke without thinking, a little louder than he should have, when he felt her pull away. "Hotaru, wait, I--" but when he tried to send his heartbeat to her, when he tried to recover the comfort of her beat, when he finally opened his eyes, he saw only the shadow of pink through the tent--heard nothing.

Rakt, impatient, nudged the haruspex's knee and looked up with unbroken gold eyes. Suddenly Ashamin became very aware of how many had gathered here, how public their exchange had been. His confidence faltered, his eyes scanned the tent with nervous energy, and he stuttered out his exit. "I-I must depart. I have matters to attend to... with our Lady Hotaru. But I thank you all for coming, and hope you continue to enjoy yourselves."

An awkward silence, a fluttering of his own pained heart as he stepped cautiously towards the exit. "Farewell," he added as if out of obligation before beckoning his companions and leaving the confines of the tent. He had to follow that pink shadow. He would follow her anywhere.

""

Ashamin