HH_mirror

There was a wildness to the storm, as if it knew it was the last of the season and had to play out its full course before the winter laid claim to the sky, barring it from returning until after the gentle rains of spring. That wildness filled them, swirling around them, feed by the Mother below them as she rejoiced with them. Rain whipped around them, the wind pulled at their skin, hair and clothes, lightning danced between the trees and the clouds, thunder echoed throughout the valley. Earth fed up through the Mother's wood, metal tinging it, bringing all the elements into play.

Kusuriyuri felt himself change, knowing it for what it was even in the midst of the chaos. He paid no heed to it, but continued to cling to Kurama, to embrace as he was embraced, to kiss as deeply as he was kissed.