06-11-2017, 07:48 PM
… curiosity killed the cat &
satisfaction brought him back
satisfaction brought him back
There is a brief moment before he greets the flamed-kissed mare that his piercing blue eyes drink in her demeanor, her lips, her curves.
Her non-association with Lucrezia.
Dahmer forms that grin (the one he'd been known for in Azza, the one he is known for here), and lets a hind hip drop, the hoof on the same appendage resting its obsidian tip against the ground. The words fall from his lips, full of something more sensual than platonic. Even he can't keep the foreboding from his tone.
The redhead responds without hesitation and Dahmer watches curiously as her eyes leave his and make their way across his frame. The Thoroughbred flicks his tail, a bemused hmmm rumbling in his throat as he acknowledges her inquiry. "Tricky question," he offers in return to her greeting.
The black beast cocks his dark head to the side, a tousled forelock nearly obscuring an ocean blue eye. "You are?"
He wants to ask where she has come from, but refrains. Not his place, not his problem, not his current prerogative.
"What do you hope to find in Beqanna?" he lets roll from his tongue, as if it is something he asks all the time.
Her non-association with Lucrezia.
Dahmer forms that grin (the one he'd been known for in Azza, the one he is known for here), and lets a hind hip drop, the hoof on the same appendage resting its obsidian tip against the ground. The words fall from his lips, full of something more sensual than platonic. Even he can't keep the foreboding from his tone.
The redhead responds without hesitation and Dahmer watches curiously as her eyes leave his and make their way across his frame. The Thoroughbred flicks his tail, a bemused hmmm rumbling in his throat as he acknowledges her inquiry. "Tricky question," he offers in return to her greeting.
The black beast cocks his dark head to the side, a tousled forelock nearly obscuring an ocean blue eye. "You are?"
He wants to ask where she has come from, but refrains. Not his place, not his problem, not his current prerogative.
"What do you hope to find in Beqanna?" he lets roll from his tongue, as if it is something he asks all the time.
break some bread for all my sins