"The translation is a bitch," River whispers. Her eyes roam Mairi, taking her in, and her ears will not stop twitching, bright pink under the stars. Wren damn her eyes but this...

"...I think the closest I could say is 'vision of joy'," the elf says at last. "But I'm just a blacksmith, y'know?"

Her head dips down, to kiss the top of Mairi's breast, even as her hands roam that soft body to squeeze and to stroke.