Compared to the grim struggle in the Abyss, Orion's original self, holding the line in Stoneheart, was having a much better time. He was, in fact, experiencing one of life's great milestones: his wedding night.
Though this was hardly his first time with the Moon Elf Isilra, the moment lost none of its intoxicating novelty. It was a fundamentally different feeling, like the simple, undeniable pleasure of tasting something for the first time.
On the massive bed, Isilra was slick with sweat, her skin flushed a deep crimson. After Orion's final, shuddering push, they collapsed into each other's arms.
"I feel... different," she murmured, her arms wrapped tightly around him. She seemed softer now, more gentle than before. It was as if consummating their union had completed some missing piece of her, rounding out the edges of her soul.
"You do," he agreed, his voice a low rumble. "You're even more beautiful." It wasn't just a platitude; he meant it.
