Kirin
that girl is a real crowd pleaser
Their presence warms him, if that can be said of Kirin, it is uncertain that anything gives him such feelings. Most certainly not in the normal, every day context of the emotion. He is quite unfeeling, unless these feelings apply to himself, and in that case he feels it all- and he likes it. But the Covelings, well, he does care for them believe it or not. Less than himself of course but more so than other things.
They slowly trickle out, like streams of water converging together to flow into the sea. It is the first such droplet of moisture that interests him, a sleek golden coat adorned with a dark pair of wings. Kirin can not miss how attractive the male is, the way he carries himself, something pulls him to this one but he quietly observes.
There is a first time for everything.
It is a slow flow, a clogged pipe and finally another saunters forth, a woman and her babe. It clings closely or she ushers it to do so, either way he smiles a most smug smile. It is amusing to Kirin, as most things are, he can not help but to be a pompous stallion, lording over others- he knew no other way. Potion’s response is without question accurate, the girl (woman now) tells the story true and she does so in a very unbiased manner. She was one to be neutral, she knew not the evils she did, too carefully groomed from a filly to know the difference.
The last speaker is the most volatile, tension clinging to every muscle. Kirin only glares back, unperturbed by the verbal lashing, ever watchful. Thus when the eruption of fire makes a barrier, he is quick to pace back, stepping away from the heat of the flames. He can still see them though, as the flames dance and flicker, can still be heard over their crackle.
“Kirin, and I agree to disagree,” he husks, sending his voice dripping sap through the wall. “She’s right though,” It is to the buckskin he speaks now, cementing Misra’s words, ensuing offer in his own voice. He imagines the man tastes of salt and sweat, picturing the practice in his mind prickles his skin. “You are most welcome to stay, you should in fact. Stay, have peace with me, for your family. You’re families,” If he were a man his hands would have risen to his chest, palms up and fingers splayed, he spoke to them all in the end.
So long as he was Royalty, he cared little for who sheltered within his domain. Some might be useful, others might be entertaining.
They slowly trickle out, like streams of water converging together to flow into the sea. It is the first such droplet of moisture that interests him, a sleek golden coat adorned with a dark pair of wings. Kirin can not miss how attractive the male is, the way he carries himself, something pulls him to this one but he quietly observes.
There is a first time for everything.
It is a slow flow, a clogged pipe and finally another saunters forth, a woman and her babe. It clings closely or she ushers it to do so, either way he smiles a most smug smile. It is amusing to Kirin, as most things are, he can not help but to be a pompous stallion, lording over others- he knew no other way. Potion’s response is without question accurate, the girl (woman now) tells the story true and she does so in a very unbiased manner. She was one to be neutral, she knew not the evils she did, too carefully groomed from a filly to know the difference.
The last speaker is the most volatile, tension clinging to every muscle. Kirin only glares back, unperturbed by the verbal lashing, ever watchful. Thus when the eruption of fire makes a barrier, he is quick to pace back, stepping away from the heat of the flames. He can still see them though, as the flames dance and flicker, can still be heard over their crackle.
“Kirin, and I agree to disagree,” he husks, sending his voice dripping sap through the wall. “She’s right though,” It is to the buckskin he speaks now, cementing Misra’s words, ensuing offer in his own voice. He imagines the man tastes of salt and sweat, picturing the practice in his mind prickles his skin. “You are most welcome to stay, you should in fact. Stay, have peace with me, for your family. You’re families,” If he were a man his hands would have risen to his chest, palms up and fingers splayed, he spoke to them all in the end.
So long as he was Royalty, he cared little for who sheltered within his domain. Some might be useful, others might be entertaining.
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