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"Do you believe that?" She responds almost immediately, although her words sound more rhetorical than anything. She certainly doesn't, and for some reason, she can't believe that Volterra, the serial polygamist and warlord would believe so either. That their son might be with the stars sounds like something her own Father might say (though likely not to her, because she'd just scoff). But it was that sort of soft and flowery imagery that she just couldn't believe was true. Then again, she'd long ago been confused about souls and where and how they were in this world, and so perhaps she was wrong.
As he moved to her side, no part of her wants to move away. With her body already remembering his touch and her mind fighting to piece together the things she should be feeling, she almost welcomes his embrace. Perhaps it will help close the chasm inside of herself. Or if not, perhaps it will be slightly filled.
She can feel his whiskers first, as if he had paused to let them tickle her skin before proceeding, or if time had somehow stopped for a moment. More likely, she was simply hypersensitive to physical affection based on who was giving it and how long it had been since their bodies had been together like this. A shockwave rocketed out from her skin, but instead of the pulsing heat that his embrace had once inspired, she felt a chilly and prickling flash of white shoot through her. It was anticipation intermingled with this newness that her lack of memories had caused.
Her own skull twisted around, and although it should have been easy for her to rest her own chin upon his back, she found that it wasn't. Isopia wasn't angry at him anymore, and yet the feeling of not being special because of how many others there were, seemed to create a physical wall between her body and his. She remembered telling him to do as he pleased, even if that meant bedding many. The Mountain could even recall his justifications for being the way that he was. And out of anyone, Isopia would seemingly be the last one to care about such a social construct as monogamy.
And yet...
"I"m sorry this is the first I've told you about this. About him." She murmured to the muscular onyx table that was his back, unable to bring herself to relax her cheek upon it, though relishing the feeling of his skin against hers just the same.
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