long, pale fingers are a startling contrast against the deep raven of her lover’s hair, nails drifting lazily against idgrod’s scalp . her chest rises slowly, almost timidly, as if she’s afraid to breathe, afraid to ruin the delicate lightness in the air above them. how long had they been lying there, maven pondered. centuries felt like seconds in this room, lying with the woman maven loved. they never had enough time. with a slight shift, maven rests her cheek against idgrod’s head, lips briefly pressing against dark hair. never enough time, maven mused, an unfamiliar ache throbbing in her chest with every beat of her heart. ‘ of course, ’ is maven’s simple answer, shifting once again, so that she may see idgrod’s face and press a chaste kiss to her lover’s lips. ‘ i wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else. ’