"Sweetie, I'm literally as old as time." Tara chuckles, her reaction only strengthened by the nose kiss. "So please take as much time as you need to get it right."
He kisses her nose in reply. And then a second time as well as a third, fourth and finally fifth time.
The green hound smiles, setting the pups down and cupping her wife's chin. Her claw gently scritches the mare's chin as she leans in to kiss Loaranna on the nose. "Patience, Dear. Just have a little." She reaches into her pocket, releasing her wife, and sets a tiny length of chain on the floor. Knife begins to jingle the chains around to get the puppy pack's attention.
Loaranna makes a peeved sound. '
You just wait, hound mine' 'she' growls softly at Knife while watching the hound from underneath 'her' faintly decorated eyelids that add faint smoke to those two burning eyes. The green pups instantly leap at the chain as a few try to noseboop it, each one with a nose busily snuffing at the chain's area oyt of clear curiosity...although a majority hide beind one of the closer parents with a tiny yipe.
The Arch Angel hugs the large winged Dreadwalker in greeting. Superbia tried his best to not hug the pallid Dreadwalker too tightly, but he couldn't ignore the huge amount of relied he felt, knowing his winged lover didn't meet their end.
The winged Dreadwalker hums slowly, nuzzling his dear angel, every though reaching to comfort the distraught lover while his hooves unravel in a growing number yet each one is slender like a primary feather as they reach out to tenderly enclose the Archangel much like his wings try to do underneath the gentle squeeze of Superbia's own wings. In all this he reaches his Art directly to the angel willing the pnk glow from his heart be something to relief his beloved angel's aching heart.
'Hello beloved,' the Dreadwalker whispers quietly, so quietly that only the Archangel can hear it.
'You look just as beautiful as the day I met you. You look like a vision of beauty incarnate. I have good news, more good news and even more good news.'
A mad cackle rings in the air, rising from the frothing, hpwling, gibbering pile of rot bound in hateful purple. 'It lives! It lives! Mwua ha ha ha!They called me mad!
Insane! PSYCHOTIC! WHO'S LAUGHING NOW!? WHO JUST RESURRECTED PONYVILLE ALONG ITH ITS COUNTRYSIDE!
THE MALICIOUS MOI!''
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"Well, we don't have to go right now if you'd like to snuggle some more, but since he can create clones of himself, I'm sure that he could just make a clone for some talking for us." the larger mare explains to Amity, "But I'm perfectly fine with cuddling my little puppy."
Yet another of the Dreadwalker winks into existence without a nanosecond's warning.
'Somepony called for a disaster in pony form?' he inquires playfully with a small smile.