She did nothing in the water. What is there for a dead mouse to do but continue loosing its fur and wait for decay to expose its bones? He sang a little tune. It would be haunting. His mother used to sing it to him while she breastfed him. A man shout not be at the age to remember those things, but it wasn't so strange, since he'd not been a toddler, last time. The woman had a pension for eerie things, and it reflected in the lullabies she gave her children. Engel, of course, had been an unmitigated favorite. He'd earned the title of Darling when her husband had only ever been called Sir. Growing up, and being grown, he'd probably seen more of his mother's body than father, too.<br/><br/>So he made more rings in the water to rival those coming off the little waterfalls, while treating her to the unsettling song. "You know, Lyra, you're being rude. I am well within my right to kill you." he said and pulled her pretty hair to spear her forward in the water, the energy of the send-off keeping her afloat until he could catch up, and hold her in his arms like she was his bride. "How would you react if I came to your home and tried, in the same oafish manner, to end you life?" he laughed at something in the scenario he was painting and then nuzzled her cheek.<br/><br/>"I think, since you Bremmingtons are known savages - it's not for naught that it rhymes with Simpleton - your only choice would be to obey savage law, which is to kill, right?" his arm was at her shoulder blades and the other at the bend of her knees, her butt dipped deep into the water, where she'd be able to feel his protrusion, trying to make a seat for her. "This is why modern people are merciful when they can be lethal." he explained as he edged her toward the the tiled beach again.<br/><br/>"Ah, well. Let's not talk about that. Social studies is Todor's thing. I'm just a soppy sentimentalist." he said as he lifted her onto the tile while he stayed half submerged. "I do have a question, though." he said as he lowered his head to lick her free-to-molest nipple. "How long do you animals breastfeed? Since you are of lower stock, are your mother's milk sour?" While he asked, she would see his right shoulder shaking, his hand underneath the surface, presumably on the very limb that had wanted to seat her earlier. He moaned into the meat of her breast.<br/><br/>"Why, Bremmington. This isn't bad atall." he admitted, slobbering all over her soft orb. "Are you of a better stock than your wildling kin?"