Mirrored from Sythyry.
“I love you both,” said Simmerene. She was nestled between Folded and Octagons, on the huge and generally soaked pillow they used for body-play. She squeezed some of her favorite parts of the elfimel, and said again, rather more pointedly, “I love you both. I really do.”
“Every day, after work, you do” said Folded. “And nicely, too. I’m almost getting used to it.”
Octagons flicked her ears. “Simmerene, I don’t quite speak Ketherian perfectly yet. The way you say that makes it sound as if there’s something more that you mean than that you trade pleasure with us. I think we figured out that you do!”
Simmerene curled her tail in the precise and slightly cockeyed curl that would convey, I am embarrassed by the actions that my harsh and inappropriate needs compel me to take, but I will take them anyhow to another Cani. Arfaen would have understood perfectly; I might have gotten a hint of it; the Elfimel had no chance. “I do mean more. I want to live with you.”
Octagons spread her huge ears. “How strange a thought is that! I am barely wise in the concept of living in one place at all. Are you about to try to teach me more?”
“I mean, I want to be your wife,” said Simmerene.
“It was only seven of your years ago that I even learned the word, wife,” said Folded. “There is much about it that I do not know. Primes value marriage greatly; did not Sythyry build Kismirth so that zie could marry Arfaen?”
(The real answer, by the way, is: No. Arfaen and I were already married at the time, at least in the eyes of one city a long way away from us.)
Simmerene wagged her tail hard. “Exactly, zie did. Marriage means the most to us of nearly anything. Will you marry me?”
“I don’t know how … do you, Octagons?” said Folded.
“Not really,” Octagons admitted.
“Let me live with you, let me teach you!” cried Simmerene.
“I suppose we could do that,” said Folded.
“We’re still confused by all the ways of primes,” said Octagons.
Which makes my engagements with Arfaen seem like grand peaks of romance, really.