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[forgingfires]

"You have contacted the great Red Son. Keep your message brief and to the point if you want a reply within twenty-four hours."

UN: jetfire

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[wildwarden]

Night Sky should not have found as much joy as she did in having Red Son yelp when she grabbed him. But she was practically giddy with delight that he did so.

"Unless you don't want this kind of thank you, of course." She assumed his reaction would not have been so calm otherwise though. She leaned down to kiss his forehead, fingertips loosening around his wrists so slowly forming vines could coil around them instead - fitting like bracelets for now, and not yet connecting, on the chance he truly did not wish for this to continue. She sat, straddling his hips.

[forgingfires]

He feels the vines wrapping around his wrists, the candlelight flaring up. He looked up at the vines and looked back to Night Sky. "I....I don't mind this kind of thank you," he said, face a vibrant red. He glanced up at the vines and to her again, swallowing. "I may have to burn them away suddenly." A warning. In case he does have to. But he's not doing it now.

[wildwarden]

"Did we ever come up with a safe word? Something we need to shout in case we want the other person to stop. I usually go with cinnamon." She said, very gingerly easing his wrists closer together. "Burn away, too, whatever you need to do, love."