03-10-2017, 06:31 PM
He is black marble under the eyes of the silver moon. The salt air lifts and tangles the knots in his mane, beckoning him to the water for a gentle kiss with frigid lips. His face is smooth and stoic beneath the pale gaze as he inhales the air with heavy lungs. He thinks of Nayl, their child. He knows he should be standing near her as she sleeps but tonight...tonight she had seemed to understand his desire for an evening walk. The dragon in him could hear her rhythmic breathes, the calm of her ferocious blood even so at this distance.
He was never too far.
The leather clad male catches the sound of another to his rear. The heavy head swings to look over a shoulder as he is met by Djinni. The genie mare of smoke and foam, magician to Nerine, ruler of Sylva. He watches her with the still unbroken appearance. Lips thin and pressed together, forelock lifted by the occasional salty breeze. His name upon her pretty lips conjures nothing but when she mentions the child, his and Nayl's babe to be...well, he does not fight the lift of his lips into a soft smile. His silver eyes move over her swelling form, the way she shifts her weight in her walk. She too is to be a mother. "May I have the honor of congratulating you as well, Djinni? I know you will have a fine child." His jowls feel rusted, aching slightly with the lack of conversation he typically has but he speaks fluidly now as his pewter gaze drinks her in.
The moon light glitters across the dark sands, stretching their shadows behinds them as though it were day. Lior moves, swivels, so he may face the genie. A respectable amount of distance is given as the dark man is wary to crowd another. Have you decided if the child will be raised in Nerine or Sylva?" The question, though possibly invasive or even abrasive, is asked with no qualms from the inky man. His question is met with a direct gaze, his mind calculating the security it would require to ensure a safe home for his own child and queen. Lior has never bothered to respect feelings as much as he has personal space. He asks candidly, directly, assertively. He did not know better.
The brooding male advances only a small pace towards the familiar woman. Long limbs easing over the dark sands as he watches her, looking down to meet her eyes. He notes how they like sea glass beneath the moon's hue. A single ear moves within the dark mane towards her, trained and listening for her reply whilst the other was ever roving, always listening for anything that lurked just beyond the reach of the moonlight.
He was never too far.
The leather clad male catches the sound of another to his rear. The heavy head swings to look over a shoulder as he is met by Djinni. The genie mare of smoke and foam, magician to Nerine, ruler of Sylva. He watches her with the still unbroken appearance. Lips thin and pressed together, forelock lifted by the occasional salty breeze. His name upon her pretty lips conjures nothing but when she mentions the child, his and Nayl's babe to be...well, he does not fight the lift of his lips into a soft smile. His silver eyes move over her swelling form, the way she shifts her weight in her walk. She too is to be a mother. "May I have the honor of congratulating you as well, Djinni? I know you will have a fine child." His jowls feel rusted, aching slightly with the lack of conversation he typically has but he speaks fluidly now as his pewter gaze drinks her in.
The moon light glitters across the dark sands, stretching their shadows behinds them as though it were day. Lior moves, swivels, so he may face the genie. A respectable amount of distance is given as the dark man is wary to crowd another. Have you decided if the child will be raised in Nerine or Sylva?" The question, though possibly invasive or even abrasive, is asked with no qualms from the inky man. His question is met with a direct gaze, his mind calculating the security it would require to ensure a safe home for his own child and queen. Lior has never bothered to respect feelings as much as he has personal space. He asks candidly, directly, assertively. He did not know better.
The brooding male advances only a small pace towards the familiar woman. Long limbs easing over the dark sands as he watches her, looking down to meet her eyes. He notes how they like sea glass beneath the moon's hue. A single ear moves within the dark mane towards her, trained and listening for her reply whilst the other was ever roving, always listening for anything that lurked just beyond the reach of the moonlight.
I want you to remember