head tilts ever so slightly, as she turns to face the object of her curiosity. elbows press firmly to thighs while shoulders lean forward, smile waning in favor of a fascinated lean, mischief curling her tongue.
” some, yes. but i can’t help but wonder what is so very fascinating. “
❝ I AM OLD. Many lifetimes stuck in one place has limited any attainment of wisdom I’ve attempted. Without further material it was a fruitless task. And now, here I am, in front of me a being that alludes my knowledge but charms me all the same. ❞
A measured response that is cautious but polite. The desire to respect the unknown to be obliged by his honor as a drake. Vorlianth’s brows raise considerably.
a smile curls on wicked lips, and charm dances in her eyes. spine settles and curves against the back of the chair, brows lifting ever so slightly as she finds the gaze behind the boring in the back of her skull. When she speaks, she hums, amusement soaking her words.
” it’s impolite to stare, you know. “
AND since when did he care what was polite and what wasn’t? Ages passed with change that twisted, laden in every year gone by, he is no longer a celebrated young man. Tarnished by greed still he is, and so he will remain. Perhaps it is this that sparks the will; his selfishness, so potent, to ＫＮＯＷ all there is.
It danced within his grasp with unimaginable control. There are true reasons for her to be uncomfortable.
I O N I L — Her name so long ago. The magister - the dragon - paces around him and stops. Her demeanor falters, head tilted off to the side in confusion. She steps closer, hands going up but stopping. They are blackened with the illusion of frostbite, fingers clawed and slightly scaled. She looks to him, then her hands and back once more. ”Si jinthil wux. Mi si aldoer thric drongilt? Ias vi thurirl?”
HER SLY TONGUE finds strength enough to speak ‘fore the goosebumps on her skin can settle in the wake of his fingers. A wry little smirk curls her lip as she shifts in her stance, ever mindful of the ground beneath her.
A LIGHTNESS GRIPS at her mortal heart. In truth she does not mind this small, defenseless body if he is here. If she thinks for long enough she can not recall a moment where that had not been true, despite the fact that memories have faded with time. She knows him, knows he is a comfort, and allows herself to indulge, if only for a moment.
The apprehension due to the possibility of her discomfort is washed away with those words, a telltale softness that He has always been known for replacing the green depths of His eyes.
It’s hard believe that once, long ago, this is how they interacted on a daily basis. Naturally there was a lack of the Language of Drakes, but for the most part…
