She did not laugh.

What was it Kaphiri had done to deserve such a fate? Had his future always been set in the sky, a sign he'd missed that had ever hinted he would have a good life? Everything had seemed so bleak after the strike, and he'd come very close to giving up on life; had resigned himself to the fate of playing with stinky herbs and reading signs he could barely see from a God he loved so, so much but struggled to understand the reasoning of.
He'd spent that first year and a half of his life dedicating himself to Saeiqa. Perhaps what had seemed like a curse, then, had been exactly what was necessary to push him from the Herd, to bring him here. All along he'd been wondering if he'd cheated death or had been rewarded with a second chance untethered, but here, in this moment, he was sure his God had something grand ahead. His place simply hadn't been at home.

If only he could keep Amrei happy for the rest of her life, he would offer his very soul to the lightning deity when he came to collect him for the afterlife.

Amrei stepped forward to hug him close, and Kaphiri thought he might drop dead just from anxiety. Was she about to tell him no, that she wasn't ready, that he was moving too fast, that he hadn't listened? No. No, she loved him, she wanted to marry him. She was ready, she was happy, she wanted to move forward in life together.

The ruby priest's eyes welled with tears he didn't bother trying to hold back, his cheek fur dampening as joyful tears spilled. She wanted to be married as soon as possible, and already, Kaphiri couldn't wait to run and tell Fable -- to tell her it'd worked, that planning needed to start! A grin split his face from ear to ear, and for a moment, he was stunned into silence.
It might've turned to a bit of a gape when she brought up pups, but his tail curled excitedly over his back and the Stormhorse stepped (skipped) forward to close the small distance between them and shove his face into the side of her neck for another hug.

You'll be a perfect wife, and I hope I can be as good of a husband, he assured, nuzzling into her warmth, smiling like a fool, I always wanted a big family, but it's up to you, love. If you never wanted any, that's fine too.

There was always adoption, or just plain not having kids if they didn't want 'em. It wasn't like he was under pressure for an heir anymore; his life was his to grasp, now, and though he'd like a litter or two of his own whelps running around, it wasn't really necessary.

When he finally stepped away, he turned and motioned with a paw to the veritable treasure trove of items he'd gathered for her. He wished there had been something shiny to add in it -- gemstones were a rare find, though, and he wasn't traveling to a new land every day scouring for its hidden pleasures. Perhaps he'd make an effort to go to the mountains and search, if he had time before the wedding, or even after.

My shabka to you, he crooned, using his raised and motioning paw to wipe at his wet face, Though I wish I could've found things that were more special, my gifts to you won't ever end.