[to give him space, morga had initially taken a step back. probably a good idea too, because even one beat of his wings had enough force to send a dead leaf flying up to stick to the white, fluffy fur around her shoulders. even with his wings hanging loose and limp as they are now, they're impressive. jæger is absolutely going to turn green at this rate, and he'd only just started getting used to malak. as he steadies himself, morga walks a careful circle around him with an appraising look. slow, quiet, and methodical as if she were stalking him all over again. the only difference this time? she's not shy about touching now that she's seen it was a welcome thing.
slowly, she stretches a hand out to run along the 'arm' of one of his wings, letting her fingers run through the plumage near his shoulders first. then further down to the larger ones. some look to be even wider than her hand in some places, though she doesn't linger there for very long. the space between his shoulders is next. these ones were softer. shorter. almost downy in places, though how much of that was temporary... she didn't know. up to the curve of his shoulder... there were less here. more scabs and blood feathers. morga's expression softens behind him where she knows he can't see it, her touch lingering there for a moment longer than she means.
she takes care to avoid jostling the ones coming in, sliding her hand and herself around to follow the length of an arm, and when she reaches his hand? she slips hers into his without missing a beat. one doesn't need to be a psychic to know that positive attention is sorely needed here. and... hey, she has two hands. the other one picks up the slack. the back of her knuckles skim down the trail of feathers leading down his sternum, gaze following for a few scant seconds. and then both come back up, palm flattening over his heartbeat.
still as strong as ever. good.
when she finally, finally looks up, she has to crane her head to do it. something slips out - laughter or a scoff, maybe both. strange how julian seems to be staking a claim on a lot of firsts in her life.]
Hush. It's not that bad.
[the hand at his heart falls away, only for her to have to actually reach up to return it to the side of his face. she takes it a step further this time, touching the trail of feathers under his eyes. and even his nose, where they seem to be the softest and barely there, all the way up between his brows.]
...An old partner once asked me why I didn't give them the time of day anymore. I simply told them I found a better warrior. A little gangly like a fawn, but with the heart of a wolf, a pinch of Freya, and all of the cleverness that Huginn carries between his wings wrapped in one messy bundle. That this one knew how to challenge me. Even now, you're much easier on the eyes than they were.
no subject
slowly, she stretches a hand out to run along the 'arm' of one of his wings, letting her fingers run through the plumage near his shoulders first. then further down to the larger ones. some look to be even wider than her hand in some places, though she doesn't linger there for very long. the space between his shoulders is next. these ones were softer. shorter. almost downy in places, though how much of that was temporary... she didn't know. up to the curve of his shoulder... there were less here. more scabs and blood feathers. morga's expression softens behind him where she knows he can't see it, her touch lingering there for a moment longer than she means.
she takes care to avoid jostling the ones coming in, sliding her hand and herself around to follow the length of an arm, and when she reaches his hand? she slips hers into his without missing a beat. one doesn't need to be a psychic to know that positive attention is sorely needed here. and... hey, she has two hands. the other one picks up the slack. the back of her knuckles skim down the trail of feathers leading down his sternum, gaze following for a few scant seconds. and then both come back up, palm flattening over his heartbeat.
still as strong as ever. good.
when she finally, finally looks up, she has to crane her head to do it. something slips out - laughter or a scoff, maybe both. strange how julian seems to be staking a claim on a lot of firsts in her life.]
Hush. It's not that bad.
[the hand at his heart falls away, only for her to have to actually reach up to return it to the side of his face. she takes it a step further this time, touching the trail of feathers under his eyes. and even his nose, where they seem to be the softest and barely there, all the way up between his brows.]
...An old partner once asked me why I didn't give them the time of day anymore. I simply told them I found a better warrior. A little gangly like a fawn, but with the heart of a wolf, a pinch of Freya, and all of the cleverness that Huginn carries between his wings wrapped in one messy bundle. That this one knew how to challenge me. Even now, you're much easier on the eyes than they were.