[If nothing else, being unable to proceed on some journey away from life has only brought her mothering tendencies more to the forefront. She's never been without an unconditional, unending affection for people and all manner of life along with them, but she had priorities that lay with chasing away evils out of man's hands. This preoccupied her; kept her legs going, and rarely, had she the time to sit or lay with someone. Now, it seems she has plenty of time for this.
And at times, it's a little alarming to be hung onto. Never bad, never. Never a cause for discomfort. More that she's takenback that they can catch onto her need to love them, while expecting nothing in return, and still reach out for her. This is the case now, her heart doing a little skip when Allura shows no qualms about holding onto her. She's thankful. Perhaps it has everything to do with the hundred years she lived being feared or loathed. Then, no one reached for her, except to strike, and while it wasn't difficult to step out of the way, at times, she let them. Their anger and suffering was deep, and in some ways, she'd caused it, dragging the very same evil she pursued down to the earth. Keeping herself from love, in its simplest, purest form, is impossible, but she hasn't come to expect it.
Accepting her this way so soon after meeting her is love to her. She can't be convinced otherwise. Allura doesn't have to find sanctuary in her, she could send her away, she could turn her back. It's more than acceptance, truly, to respond this way.
For the whole of the night, Amaterasu doesn't move, and sleeps soundly and protectively close to her. By daybreak, she's the first one out of the little snow-made hut. She doesn't attempt to wake Allura immediately, since she knows she'll need her strength, but as for herself, she's already ventured out doors. The wind is still harsh, still brutal, still testing their stamina and ability to make it all the way. Other than whipping her fur continuously, or making her squint into her blinks, wolf hardly seems deterred. Whether Allura remains sleeping or soon starts to awaken herself, her beastly companion busies herself with a morning stretch, and roll, sinking deep into the snow to kick her legs, and then she's off. Not to abandon, but to race aimlessly and work the blood through her legs and system back and forth not far from the opening.
It's a wonder anyone can dart, and spring, and flop, and roll, and frolic, and bounce in this kind of weather, but she's constructed for such endurance, and she knows well that vigorous motion will help to warm her up. Once she feels revitalized from their long sleep, she pops enthusiastically back into the little hut to see if Allura is up by now. In either case, she throws her paws down in telling play bow, and sways her head with rumbling nonsense, and then she goes to her, a little more aggressively than the night before, but not unkindly. She knows it will do her even better to get moving, and please forgive her, but yes, even this early, she's already trying to incite her into play. Foolishly grumbling and snuffling under her hair, pawing her, if not nudging her to get her up or to roll over to get up, then clambering on her to gingerly gnaw her wrist.
There's intervals that she bounces away to dip into play bow again, chattily rumble at her again, wave her tail in the air, and when she's satisfied she's willing to face the day, she drags her pack over to her. There's still food stored in it, isn't there? They can't make a move on until she eats.]
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And at times, it's a little alarming to be hung onto. Never bad, never. Never a cause for discomfort. More that she's takenback that they can catch onto her need to love them, while expecting nothing in return, and still reach out for her. This is the case now, her heart doing a little skip when Allura shows no qualms about holding onto her. She's thankful. Perhaps it has everything to do with the hundred years she lived being feared or loathed. Then, no one reached for her, except to strike, and while it wasn't difficult to step out of the way, at times, she let them. Their anger and suffering was deep, and in some ways, she'd caused it, dragging the very same evil she pursued down to the earth. Keeping herself from love, in its simplest, purest form, is impossible, but she hasn't come to expect it.
Accepting her this way so soon after meeting her is love to her. She can't be convinced otherwise. Allura doesn't have to find sanctuary in her, she could send her away, she could turn her back. It's more than acceptance, truly, to respond this way.
For the whole of the night, Amaterasu doesn't move, and sleeps soundly and protectively close to her. By daybreak, she's the first one out of the little snow-made hut. She doesn't attempt to wake Allura immediately, since she knows she'll need her strength, but as for herself, she's already ventured out doors. The wind is still harsh, still brutal, still testing their stamina and ability to make it all the way. Other than whipping her fur continuously, or making her squint into her blinks, wolf hardly seems deterred. Whether Allura remains sleeping or soon starts to awaken herself, her beastly companion busies herself with a morning stretch, and roll, sinking deep into the snow to kick her legs, and then she's off. Not to abandon, but to race aimlessly and work the blood through her legs and system back and forth not far from the opening.
It's a wonder anyone can dart, and spring, and flop, and roll, and frolic, and bounce in this kind of weather, but she's constructed for such endurance, and she knows well that vigorous motion will help to warm her up. Once she feels revitalized from their long sleep, she pops enthusiastically back into the little hut to see if Allura is up by now. In either case, she throws her paws down in telling play bow, and sways her head with rumbling nonsense, and then she goes to her, a little more aggressively than the night before, but not unkindly. She knows it will do her even better to get moving, and please forgive her, but yes, even this early, she's already trying to incite her into play. Foolishly grumbling and snuffling under her hair, pawing her, if not nudging her to get her up or to roll over to get up, then clambering on her to gingerly gnaw her wrist.
There's intervals that she bounces away to dip into play bow again, chattily rumble at her again, wave her tail in the air, and when she's satisfied she's willing to face the day, she drags her pack over to her. There's still food stored in it, isn't there? They can't make a move on until she eats.]