In the Morning

The sun creeps through the doorway that leads out to the balcony, making its way slowly toward the bed on which Milanna and Mograg lie. His arms are wrapped around her, holding her against his bare chest. She nuzzles into him as she sleeps. Both have a content expression on their face, comfortable in their love's embrace.

She'd grown used to the bull's snoring. This morning, though, he was quiet. The sounds of life could be heard outside, as could the nearby crackle of small fires. The wings of Mograg's little dragon whelpling Quidel flap gently. His wolf companion Gunnar yawns. Milanna's prarie dog Ginger squeaks happily. The scuffle of hooves across the wooden floors can be heard from below, the innkeeper seeing to the morning chores.

He smiles into her eyes when she looks up at him, stirring awake for the first time since she had neatly folded up the parchment of her letter and snuggled up to him. The slow, rhythmic motion of his chest is interrupted as he lets out a quiet, "Good morning, Olathe," his voice an octave or two lower as it has been every morning they've woken together.

He strokes her mane after leaning forward for a first kiss of the day. They exchange good mornings, inquiries into how one another slept, and other small talk, lying together lazily as the sun creeps higher into the morning sky. They hold and kiss on one another, his adoration evident in the way he looks at her.

"Mmm. I found your letter, Nayeli," he smiles. "I read it by the light of the firepots, just before sunrise. Why don't we go out onto the balcony and talk a while, mmm? Looks like a very nice morning out there."

Reticently, they pull themselves apart from one another just long enough to get out of bed and head out the door. They sit down on the balcony, Milanna first, then Mograg. He sits directly behind her. Her tail lies across his right thigh and wraps back around his waist to make room for him. He puts his arms around her from behind, holding her hands and hugging her, pulling her back into his chest. His chin rests lazily on her apex, after giving it a quick kiss. He still hasn't bothered with getting any more dressed than he had been. Milanna knows full well modesty has never been one of Mograg's strong points, and he can barely be bothered to wear his armor except to fit in with others or to protect his hide.

He smiles, his eyes looking out across the water that surrounds the village, and further out across the plains. He speaks a bit more of the Umbral Spirit Walkers, Machtagen and Keja at first. He says that, except for Machtagen's intention to see that undead are "returned to the cycle", they're actually quite likable. There's no small amount of disappointment in his voice as he relates this. It's clear he wanted very much to like them wholly.

He also speaks a bit about Slyvos, another of the Umbral Spirit Walkers who apparently he had spent some time with a couple of nights ago. Slyvos is, by Mograg's account, a crazy old bull with a hint of wisdom and humor about him. He'd surprised Mograg by knowing more about guns than he'd expected from one who doesn't hunt, or smith guns himself. And, while most of what Slyvos had said seemed paranoid, or just downright made up, there were moments of clarity. He was a good natured if strange bull.

They talk briefly of the night elves, the clan gatherings, and prowling about. He offers that he has a device that will make him invisible to most, but for a very limited time. Enough to run past a good number of the furbolgs in the tunnel that leads from the Felwood to the Moonglade and Winterspring. He muses that it might be nice to go up to the Moonglade with Milanna some day to fish its waters. He talks about how he wants to go with Milanna to Winterspring, to swim in the hot springs after a good snowball fight or two.

They talk as long as she is comfortable about her feral forms and her discomfort with them. He says that he wasn't certain until he'd read her letter that this was the case, but he'd long suspected it was true of her. He asks her questions without easy answers, if any answers at all, about what it feels like to take the different shapes. He listens, nodding in consideration, still marvelling at it like he did when they conversed in the pond in Stranglethorn several months ago.

He offers to walk with her to Red Rocks. It promises to be a nice stroll through the plains. If they go early, the dew would still be on the grass, and subsequently their hooves as they walk. As they talk of this, Gunnar and Quidel both come to Mograg in apparent demand of their morning sustenance. He chuckles and says that it sounds like they have the right idea.

With a loving squeeze of her hands and her body in his arms, he rises and promises to return in just a few moments. He trots off, ducking back in from the balcony. He returns briefly with some roasted quail, cold and wrapped up in parchment. He tears off a bit and hand feeds it to Quidel, tossing the bulk of it to Gunnar.

He walks down the ramp to the lower floor after emptying part of a water skin over his hands, rinsing them. He speaks to the inn keeper a moment, his voice having returned to its normal pitch and now a bit louder than it probably needs to be, typical of Mograg. He purchases enough spice bread, fruits, and moonberry juice for their morning meal and returns to Milanna, sitting next to her now. Their tails intertwine as they enjoy their morning repast over continued small talk and affectionate tugs of one another's tails.

Breakfast eaten, he suggests a quick swim to start the day. Mograg's hardly waited for an answer before he's hopped down directly from the balcony, over the railing. He lands with a loud but dull thud, his hooves stomping unerringly on the ground below. By the time he's gotten to the lake, he's running at full tilt. The last remnants of his armor are shucked hastily on the shore as he runs. He dives head first into the cool waters. He comes up again a moment later, his head and apex breaking the surface quickly as he shouts, "That'll get the blood flowing!" He chuckles with an exaggerated shiver. Milanna, still approaching, giggles at him.

He grins, relentlessly trying to coax Milanna into the water with him until she gives in. They swim a little while, splashing one another playfully. Eventually, the bull decides he's had enough splashing and jumps forward to Milanna, his arms outstretched. He snares her within them and drags her under the surface with him briefly. He wraps his arms around her, the warmth of each other's body a stark contrast to the chill of the water.

They come up for air, and much to his delight, he's elicited a "Mograg!" from Milanna, followed by her giggle and a playful bat at his arm. He chuckles mirthfully, hugging her tightly. "Nayeli, I love you more than words could ever tell you. I'm never so happy as I am when I'm with you."

A long, tender moment in the water is interrupted when Mograg pulls his lips away from hers. He grins playfully, "Mmm. Spice bread breath." He chuckles as she giggles at him, blushing ever so slightly. "Come on, my love, let's get our gear and start our trek toward Red Rocks."

He climbs up onto the shore, lowers his hands, and pulls Milanna out of the water and to him. He grins, collecting what armor he'd removed before diving in. He shakes out his mane a bit and wrings his braids, all the while musing that it's a shame he doesn't have his ceremonial garb with him. He has her promise to remind him to wear it for her some night.

They wander back to the inn and gather up the rest of their belongings. Mograg puts on the lower half of his armor as well as his bracers, leaving the heavy chest piece, shoulders, cloak and helm stowed away in and tied to his pack. He claims to her it's going to be far too warm to wear it. "And until we start chasing down dragons, it's not needed," he adds with a chuckle. He straps two long sheathes to his back, one holding his gun, the other a sword large enough that the massive bull must wield it with two hands.

They walk start to walk across the plains toward Red Rocks, hand in hand, smiling. What adventure awaits them beyond their morning remains to be seen. Wherever the day takes them, though, they know they will spend it together.