Nausy could hardly be blamed for her confusion in that part, since Paris and Shiraz slept together, shared a bed... simply in the literal definition of the word, rather than the intimate sense. For the first five years of her life Shiraz had enjoyed curling up in Paris' arms, falling asleep to the sensation of him stroking her fur.

And after she'd fought to attain a human form, hoping that would bring them even closer together, the calmest and happiest that Shiraz felt was simply falling asleep next to him. Oh, they had experimented as they'd grown up of course, although it had never gotten very serious. It had been sweet and awkward, but memorable nonetheless. With their move to Quentão, her behaviour had simply gotten more pronounced, and it must have been especially noticeable to Nausy, who'd never really seen Shiraz stay in feline form for any length of time. Behaviors that would have seemed so normal had she been in her natural shape must have seemed overtly sensual by human standards, even when they weren't meant that way.

And Paris had made that stupid, stupid promise: not to be with anyone else, because Shiraz had been afraid of being replaced. At the time it had been an incredible comfort to the Bonded, and she had loved him all the more for it, but she had finally seen what Vita had seen... that it wasn't realistic and it wasn't good for him. So she had tried to swallow her instinctive reactions to keep Paris to herself and just see what was in front of her.

Having Nausicaa here, watching Paris grow more and more fond of her, and watching him with Marc as well, Shiraz had then had what was no less than a life-changing revelation: she didn't feel any less loved for it. She didn't feel at all like Paris had been pulling away from her. He was still hers, and she was still his in a way that no one else could touch... but that maybe, maybe, was possible to share.

"We're not mates," she said, and there was an finality in the way she said it.