Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside
could have so many ragged holes inside
could have so many ragged holes inside
She seems shocked, then - obviously - she refuses. But lucky for him, in a tone and with words that aren’t entirely serious, muttering that he shouldn’t tell her what to do. ”I will if it keeps you safe,” he stubbornly rebukes, though it’s half-hearted because honestly she is entirely distracting. A soft kiss, first, then followed with a sharper nibble with her blunt horse teeth. Nothing that hurts him, but it’s a surprise, and when she slinks away from him he almost immediately follows.
Almost. Wait. She’s moving with purpose, although he can’t help he’s longing for her touch already. But that was not the point of the game. I’ll humor you this time.” And his grin is as wide as hers when she enters the treeline, and he watches her fly.
A hundred heartbeats he waits (though they’re faster than normal, he’s excited, but she too he hopes). He loses count almost, halfway, but since he hadn’t specified how long he’d wait to follow he doesn’t think it matters much. Moving like an elastic band shot from a hand, sudden, erratic in the first two steps but in a straight, fast-forward line from there. It’s in full gallop, nostrils flaring, that he starts, her scent still clear in his nostrils, and her starting to sweat helps him track as well.
She’s moved fast enough to get her headstart indeed - she’s beyond the edge of his vision or, perhaps taking a trail away from prying eyes. But there’s always her intoxicating scent, and he’s following like a fly towards the light. So what if it kills him in the end. There’d be worse ways to go.
When his own hide is drenched as much as hers must be, he’s slowed down to a canter; her scent gets stronger and yet she cannot be seen - ah, hiding. Clever as always. Though he briefly wonders if she can be seen from the sky - slowing down further, he weighs his options. Down the cliffs, where he suspects her to be, or up where he can hopefully spy her hiding place without her noticing.
It will take more time to reach her then, but it would be useful to test her hiding skills against a bird’s-eye view. At least that’s what he tells himself when he steps deliberately slowly over grass polls and sand patches so as not to be heard against the wind, sneaking up the cliffside and peeking over every now and then. Hoping the distance is enough not to warn her; but he can’t be sure about her mental abilities. Nevertheless, when he doesn’t spot her, he turns around following the same path, then at the place of his earlier choice to go up, follows her down to the seaside.
She’ll probably see him coming, but heck, he’s hunting her and she can’t run forever; so actually, he’s hoping she’ll notice. It was a learning experience after all (though what exactly they were learning, or who’s teaching who, he’s no longer entirely sure of - he’s having way too much fun with this).
Almost. Wait. She’s moving with purpose, although he can’t help he’s longing for her touch already. But that was not the point of the game. I’ll humor you this time.” And his grin is as wide as hers when she enters the treeline, and he watches her fly.
A hundred heartbeats he waits (though they’re faster than normal, he’s excited, but she too he hopes). He loses count almost, halfway, but since he hadn’t specified how long he’d wait to follow he doesn’t think it matters much. Moving like an elastic band shot from a hand, sudden, erratic in the first two steps but in a straight, fast-forward line from there. It’s in full gallop, nostrils flaring, that he starts, her scent still clear in his nostrils, and her starting to sweat helps him track as well.
She’s moved fast enough to get her headstart indeed - she’s beyond the edge of his vision or, perhaps taking a trail away from prying eyes. But there’s always her intoxicating scent, and he’s following like a fly towards the light. So what if it kills him in the end. There’d be worse ways to go.
When his own hide is drenched as much as hers must be, he’s slowed down to a canter; her scent gets stronger and yet she cannot be seen - ah, hiding. Clever as always. Though he briefly wonders if she can be seen from the sky - slowing down further, he weighs his options. Down the cliffs, where he suspects her to be, or up where he can hopefully spy her hiding place without her noticing.
It will take more time to reach her then, but it would be useful to test her hiding skills against a bird’s-eye view. At least that’s what he tells himself when he steps deliberately slowly over grass polls and sand patches so as not to be heard against the wind, sneaking up the cliffside and peeking over every now and then. Hoping the distance is enough not to warn her; but he can’t be sure about her mental abilities. Nevertheless, when he doesn’t spot her, he turns around following the same path, then at the place of his earlier choice to go up, follows her down to the seaside.
She’ll probably see him coming, but heck, he’s hunting her and she can’t run forever; so actually, he’s hoping she’ll notice. It was a learning experience after all (though what exactly they were learning, or who’s teaching who, he’s no longer entirely sure of - he’s having way too much fun with this).
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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