gentleman, is she rly your wife if you don't kill her once?

Laughter, even as the warmth of him pressed to her was startling and almost painful against skin that still did not recall what it should do, what sensations and touch meant.  She had been floating for so long, wrapped in nothing but shadows and fragmented memories… the sudden weight of her body, of having a body felt ungainly, cumbersome.  She felt heavy.

But he was here and for that, she was grateful.  Mythal laughed again as his face pushed into the side of her neck.  The soft touch of his mouth to the skin there behind her ear was electric, a jolt running up her spine.  She thrilled at it, at the lips that gradually found their way to hers.

Does this form distract you then, Feredir? she teased, pulling the cloak tighter around her.  This cloak does not suffice?  She eased them apart, though she didn’t pull away entirely.  Hands, fingers lifted and she slowly mapped out the shape of his face.  I have seen you in so many different places, in so many different forms. But this, she graced him with another smile, this is best. Where shall we find me some clothes then?

The world was not familiar yet, but she would make it so.  And, when she was comfortable in her own skin once more, she would make it hers again.