how long has it been?

[small_magics]

Isibel's beloveds are home. And they are with her. And they are quite undisturbed.

Anyone who could not guess the ensuing events would not know them very well.

She has spent over a sennight, now, with them, entangled and sleepless and so very, very glad to have them again.

It is during a lull in the proceedings - if it can really be called that, when they are sandwiched around her, Ansharil in one of his humanoid shapes, Aianon with his wings wrapping them all up in a bundle - when it occurs to her that Lycaelon was promised a kiss, once, years ago.

Comments

[small_magics]

Ooh! Pouncing!

(And before she forgets a quick time-dilation wish -)

[endragoned]

Mmm. Pouncing. There is already magic in place to ensure that his sharp parts do not harm Isibel, and Ansharil of course is very fond of those sharp parts and would not dream of banning them from his person.

[small_magics]

Personalized sharpness enjoyment for everyone!

[endragoned]

Yes. That.

[small_magics]

Also beloved-enjoyment, more generally. Lots of it. A sennight is not enough after sixteen years.

[endragoned]

Not nearly enough. Try three, or four. Or more than that. More, generally. More time, more pouncing, more kisses, more of everything they missed.

[small_magics]

And there was so much to miss. (Not least because Ansharil keeps turning into things. When he's an angel he makes the loveliest sounds when Isibel strokes his wings.)

[endragoned]

His wings as an angel are the same vivid array of purples as his hair in any humanoid shape. They are very beautiful, and he loves to wrap her up in them and kiss her.

[small_magics]

And she loves to be wrapped up and kissed! What a lovely arrangement.

[endragoned]

Yes. If possible, Ansharil would like to go on touching her for - oh, the next several years at least.

[small_magics]

She would not dream of sending him away from her.

[endragoned]

Good. He'll just do that, then.

[small_magics]

Of course, several years spent doing what they are doing now might be excessive, time-dilation or no, but that doesn't mean she wants to stop yet. And she can bring Ansharil with her wherever she goes, shaped like this or that, without it necessarily always devolving into sennights or moonturns of prolonged "reunion".

[endragoned]

Perhaps he will be some sort of small pretty extravagant bird and perch himself on her shoulder. Small, pretty, extravagant, and purple.

But for now - reunion. Yes. That.

[small_magics]

Very very much that.

[endragoned]

Very much of that. As much of that as they want. Especially now that they are tucked away out of time, there is absolutely no reason to stop until they are entirely done.

[small_magics]

That will take a lot of that.

[endragoned]

Yes. It will.

[small_magics]

Best get started. Well. Continue, more.

[endragoned]

Yes.





It takes a very long time, but eventually, they are snuggling and snuggling and have not kissed in a while and Aianon decides that he might like to have a nap.

[small_magics]

Isibel kisses his forehead, not to break the lull but to punctuate it. She sits up. She squares herself presentable and clothed, ensures that the tree won't allow anyone in to disturb or be disturbed by Aianon, and stands and stretches, yawning contently.

[endragoned]

Ansharil becomes a small purple creature with a long fluffy body, a longer, fluffier tail, and beautiful feathery purple wings. He flutters up to Isibel's shoulder, perches there, curls his tail loosely around her neck, and nuzzles her cheek.

[small_magics]

She pets his fluff. And she breaks the time dilation on her tree, and takes a step outside.

[endragoned]

Will she be seeking out Lycaelon now?

[small_magics]

She should think about that, shouldn't she. Hmm.

She likes being her beloveds' - favorite, for lack of a better word. She does not begrudge them their affection for others, but none of it is central in the same way as what they have for her. She is wondering how she will do if there is another in their Bond, another Binding permanently anchored, on the level with hers. Perhaps it would change nothing, particularly since Lycaelon likes to be alone so very much of the time. But perhaps she is wrong.