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Quaritch sighs as he rubs his face against the fur pelts of Varang’s bed, so high he finds himself unable to think at all. It’s utter bliss, finally having time to himself to do nothing at all.
His purpose, his role in life, has lessened to something so mind numbingly simple and domestic he wants to do nothing else. He’s mated to the Tsahik, contained to her yurt where he waits for her, is fed by her, watered by her, and has little existence outside of her.
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Yayyyy she's gentle with him so cute
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