I can not even BEGIN to tell you how afraid I was that Aisling was going to run off. I mean, if she ran then I’d have to chase after her and do you know how that would look? I know the proper thing to do would be to let her leave if she wanted to but I couldn’t help it! I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t hurt her, wanted to make sure that everything between us was okay. Everything had been so wonderful up until a few moments ago so obviously it was something having to do with me and look at me, I’m made of sugar! I’m not meant to be hated! Or even disliked! It’s literally not in my genes! So yeah, I’m going to follow Aisling until I can get her to talk to me or until I can get her to smile once more.

That’s really all I wanted.

Although she does not talk, she did not move either - listening to my voice as I coaxed her back down to the present that we were sharing.

I thought I was going to down right faint I was so scared to even breathe unless it frightened her away as I reached out for her, my muzzle tentative and encouraging - doing everything I could not to seem threatening. Could that be the problem? I’ve never really had that issue before. No one usually even took me seriously (including myself) never mind actually threatening. But it was becoming abundantly clear that whatever was happening right now was something I had never experienced before. The twisty, fluttery feeling in my stomach as though it was made of cotton candy.

Not only did she not flee, but she leaned into the touch and a soft, relieved chuckle escaped from me as I inhaled the soft, fresh scent of her cheek - moving my pink muzzle along it in the softest of caresses. And then she moved, tucking her head against my neck and nipping at my mane. The sigh that escaped me at this proximity was, uh, well it was bliss? I think? I’ve heard a less intense version of this sigh when someone tastes my sugar sweetness for the first time - I think it’s been described as ‘ecstasy’.

But bliss is the term that I find fits really well right now.

I don't even have anything to say - finding no words that needed to be spoken here, in this place that we've created. I curl my neck around her and hold her as close as I can -  playing with her mane as she played with mine. Hers might not be sugary and taste of peppermint but I found it sweet nonetheless. Sweet because it belonged to her, my dear storyweaver, who I would rather hold than all the Isoldes in Loorien.