[ He need not ask more than a tug, beckon more than a brush of warmth, and she folds easily. Always did, her mother would scold her.
Easy to see why she would want to, even with a veritable stranger. She has drunk and danced and sung. In disarray, her face was flushed and her voice turned to a rasp. The hay crunched under the heel of her palm as she moved to sit where he guided, dragging her fingers through her hair and shifting it, where at its great length, it fell well below her hips, almost to her knees. Getting it, and then her skirts, out of the way so she could sit. ]
The air tastes like honey, I think. Warm and... sweet. [ It's no more than a strained whisper and clear that she is - straining that is, done too much and now she could only rasp, but she is no less happy for it. ]
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Easy to see why she would want to, even with a veritable stranger. She has drunk and danced and sung. In disarray, her face was flushed and her voice turned to a rasp. The hay crunched under the heel of her palm as she moved to sit where he guided, dragging her fingers through her hair and shifting it, where at its great length, it fell well below her hips, almost to her knees. Getting it, and then her skirts, out of the way so she could sit. ]
The air tastes like honey, I think. Warm and... sweet. [ It's no more than a strained whisper and clear that she is - straining that is, done too much and now she could only rasp, but she is no less happy for it. ]