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Summary
Lost in the meanderings of his thoughts, Night-colored eyes unfocused, Moros does not even seem to notice Melinoë coming beside him, not until he hears the Princess call his name once, probably twice now.
"Ah," he visibly deflates, "Apologies, Princess."
She shakes her head as if to say it's alright, "Nectar for your thoughts?" in her hand, heavenly pleasure in a bottle. They seemed to have an abundance of those where she went, and that she would choose to share each one with him. Then there was his gift to her, still pinned over her chiton. A piece of him she brings with her. The feeling takes form like a serpent coiling around his gut.
"You ought to be careful." he couldn't help but smile, at least when with her, "Several offerings like this can make even Doom grow a big head."
"Would that include your... horns? Or without?" she laughs, breathy and light.
"Some adjustments would have to be made, I'm afraid."Melinoë and Moros navigate their feelings for one another.