Vaalingrade
Legend
He leaned in, finding that for her added height, he had to crane his neck a bit to make it work. A small thing given the long suffering he'd suffered from his family for pursuit of her, the scornful looks, the sharp tongues. All worth it. Not just the kiss, but what it meant. That finally, after as many months they were at last together. Ursula of the Southron Steppes and Sir Cal of Menvar: united in love and passion.
She leaned down, and they met in the middle. Her lips were rough and chapped from a day of riding the hunt. Her tusks oddly enticing with their smoothness as they moved against the corners of his mouth. Her arms encircled him; the same strength she used to pull that mighty bow as tall as a man pulling him closer into the heat of their exchange. The power the old tales said would rip a man in twain making this man feel fortified beyond his kin.
She leaned down, and they met in the middle. Her lips were rough and chapped from a day of riding the hunt. Her tusks oddly enticing with their smoothness as they moved against the corners of his mouth. Her arms encircled him; the same strength she used to pull that mighty bow as tall as a man pulling him closer into the heat of their exchange. The power the old tales said would rip a man in twain making this man feel fortified beyond his kin.