City Elf	Old Man	"That's where you're wrong, my star. Anything that means I can wake up hearing and seeing just you… and no resort things is a vacation. So while I'm still tied to that place—you won't convince me otherwise."
City Elf	Old Man	An early rise, for them, was hardly ever ideal—but in the wilds and for the slighter half of the pair, largely unfamiliar territory understanding came easy. Comprehension did not immediately grant a liking for it, thus justified was middle-aged Wildman in his tender busses over neck base and trinket chain's clasp. "Hh'mnh…" the softly crumpling visage perhaps missed all together, aiming hints of discontent over the tufts of plant life before her. Beckoning more her settle into the warmer hold of her guiding star's embrace with a contemplative run back and forth of her thumb," I can deal with that; can't really afford to lose daylight way out here, yeah?" Her second question, however a serious first. Ah, but… correction came with a benevolently rising pitch of his lady enabler.
City Elf	Old Man	Spooned uncommon, but rarity further in moments of alertness—however, with imploring posture to relax against his flank defending cover. Naturally a smooth back did ease into the frontal packing of muscle and ornate buckles and the light projecting as back-lit hue for restless amber to focus on, across a stretch of bent and unmarred blades of grass were she not so inclined to turn, pushing back of her skull towards the soil serving as their accommodations for the moment, yet it went without missing a beat that the liberated proprietress that she comment on it all the same; cushioning the inquisitive jab with an over her skyward facing side to seek arm and lead its defined reach over her waist; loosely furled at the wrist, "Catching a cold isn't on the list of plans, right?" focus on their current lay. Time of her wondering peep made when first nuzzle of bulb signed the inclinations of succor.
City Elf	Old Man	Intents going forward to present herself not as added obstacle in pulling away—an event soon to come and pass, but as an encouraging party all the same. Relegating advances to a modest withdraw, first motions and Raven's own preparations to pull back met with caught bottom lip on she-elf countenance. Her own sensitivities proving further in wane than he, but the absence was distinctive without need for mention. Affirmative; even with thighs urged into their current placement, whispering eye, while conservative due to assisted close—did weep ichors' tear for the vacancy, but solitude was not on the agenda and this is where further mark upon bodies may transpire. A damp introduction on lumbar and beginnings of cleft, perchance—in kind that sidling bulwark may wear it too when his own crinite upper thigh came for reminiscent settle.
City Elf	Old Man	Amid that moment of throaty recompose Zilyana wore a cheeky upturn of features that might otherwise influence pre-established opinions of her being of mortal nature or prurient she-devil. Gentle-star's inquiries spurred such into lively placement and further admission allowed his beloved's features to shine in spite of her manifesting weariness taking root. The deed done, promise upheld, and now learning freedom of tongue once more—was reason enough surely to permit triumphant guise. "He'h," a sound to coincide, where those ebony haired mischief begotten lots, so tied in their romancer's weave and little resistance to speak of otherwise, there was curiosity whether she'd even take advantage of her newly removed censors. Instead, perhaps she welcomed the permission with an inward nudge, simple enough to establish a moment's brush and little else.
Old Man	City Elf	Ever still, he capitalized to satiate his most immediate needs, here to sidle up at her backside and lift a scruffy leg to cross it over smoother limbs, encouraging her recline into his night-lighting chest and wear the indecent smears of post-coital surges across her tailbone, effectively shielding him from that pestering countryside air. "—Even tell ya that I'm gonna have t' get us goin' early t'morrow," Raven informed, presenting consolation in reach for the base of her neck, approximate where pendants closure sealed itself. There, a press fonder than that which painted her backside, marking her tenderly with an agreeable beak. "Ain't always a vacation, mama."
Old Man	City Elf	"Nh'h," The long draw back, drowned beyond reasonable measure, until her poor ravaged flower was rid of his insistent wedge. Raven's sudden inhale akin to hiss, no reliable way to rectify his sudden transition from sultry confines to midnight chill with milky pale thighs closed by his own design—undone by carnal avarice at last! Improvisation was their perpetual key, it seemed, and so some alleviation graced them both in his bid to slink off Zilyana's winding silhouette to deposit himself at her back, falling to fit himself into place against a posture curved to accommodate his sordid pillage. "Oof'hh," Far too reminiscent of a retiring settle, the well-meaning guide to faraway excursions maintained it was only a means to deliver them from lasting ache before one (likely) unsightly move away to humble quarters.
Old Man	City Elf	"... Kinda silly, now that I think about it. Scratch that then: Raven's an open book." That rules so staunch could be laid by such a fickle man was an injustice in itself, though bless Zilyana for adhering to them all the same. If endowed with the strength to self-amuse, he could then muster similar energies to initiate that necessary traversal but a few paces yonder, as the crackling flame would not feed itself on Terca Lumireis' majestic ether to warm their bodies through the night unguarded as they were. Straying touches then fastened against the prominence of her shoulder blade, steadying himself long enough to aid dislodge lower in lay over her side-facing flank. Just a brief press into her beaten bottom, retracting from its fondest place of rest with care, certainly no better for enduring further sensations when the nerve endings that wore themselves in abundance upon his tiring cap were positively fried from over-feeling.
Old Man	City Elf	If there was a better way to bid his foreign lover welcome in lands so unapologetic in its exotic flair, he did not know it. With agency returning to muscles and joints overridden by spasms and sudden lockups respectively, his bestial cover persisted chiefly out of his unwillingness to part in spite of its awkward tax upon both joined halves. Raven reveled just a while longer, trappings of the bipedal bear-man seldom so convincing as it had been when whittling away at the she-elf's prior irritations, leathery paw roving trails through her tresses notwithstanding. A second more to collect himself, he figured. "—That, hnh?" Resonances still flaking rusts accumulated from his recent spell of harsh projections and other guttural calls, he made efforts to amend the marred tone with a faint tuck of his bristled chin, rumble to following doing its best to shake out the strained vocal folds.
Old Man	City Elf	Remnants of grizzled personage played atop her dampened locks, lumbering in its caress following the lax of his claws, languorous passes foretelling of an impending slumber. Elder sorts and their perpetual want for rest, or so the razzes went, though hardly unwarranted if the living puddle of exhaustion two-fold were anything to gauge justification by. Raven had filled the daylight hours with scouting, unspoken preparations, and that arduous travel to and fro for the collection of his beloved inspiration so influential that she may rouse a professional malingerer into productivity. By very credit of their marvelous union, stranger things had certainly proven themselves plausible. But oh, no matter how depleted the whinging crow may believe himself, the opportunities manifesting in Zilyana's private company always compelled him to call upon those reserves until he could claim to know exhaustion in full.