rhonen
molten eyes and a smile made for war
He flicks an ear to catch her name, though it would be hard to miss it, the way she is pressed into him. Karaugh, she says, and he turns his head far enough to look at her, though not far enough to shift any more of his body weight into her. He takes a moment to appreciate the contrast of her dark skin so close to the bright copper of his own. “Karaugh,” he repeats the word, tasting it on his tongue, considering it in his mind.
“I’m Rhonen,” he offers in return, and then gives her a sharp-edged smile. A dangerous smile, even if he doesn’t currently have the powers he used to have to back it up. His ears twist back towards his head again, and if she isn’t quick to move away, he aims a sharp nip at the neck which he considers entirely too close to him. Finally allowing his muscles to unlock, he steps away from her, and turns his gaze back to stare at the mare once more. “I’m already on the path to greatness,” he says, tilting his head, “but perhaps, for now, our paths may converge.”
