Sonje by Sie!
His voice, the highlight of her everyday. They could go hours apart, attending to individual duties and other small nuances of their personalities, but she had become too accustomed to seeing his face every day to go without it for more than that. She was drawing when he arrived, one of only three hobbies she practiced regularly; the other two being cooking and sword-fighting. How lady-like. But Sonje didn't need to be a lady. She fit with Temeraire, and he loved her unconditionally—something she treasured more than anything, as she'd never had someone show her such love before.
So when he called, Sonje tossed her pad aside, scrambling from the covers of their bedding in an effort to greet him. Coming!
she called, feeling immensely giddy. She had news for her love, great news! And a wonderful picture to illustrate it, but in her haste, she left her elegant sketch behind and rushed into her mate's arms, with no less enthusiasm than usual. Once unhappy, selfish and egotistic, she'd found after months of being with him, that she could set all of that aside, if only for Teme.
She crashed into him, knowing his arms to be steady and strong, her bronze fur melting into his raven pelt like it belonged. She kissed him, full on the mouth, and a sleek hand snaked up to play with his white-rimmed ear (a habit), as she stood back again to observe him. She tilted her head, a small, admiring smile piercing her lips as she marveled that he was hers, a fact she was confident in. She didn't even remember—as it had been purged from her thoughts a long time ago—the real reason she'd come to know the amazing young man. How was your friend? Did you get to catch up?
she asked interestedly, pretending as if she didn't have her own news. As much as it would have pained the "old" Sonje to play the loving, doting wife, she found it was easy with Teme. He deserved every ounce of loving attention she could give—or so she thought.
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