02-25-2020, 11:27 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He watches quietly as Ilma and Draco discuss his father, though he does not care enough to comment on the matter. But then she turns her pointless conversations on him and he tilts his head to convey his attention to her. She carries on about laws and nomads as his patience wears unbearably thin at last. Ghaul issues a short snort as he tosses his head dismissively.
“An overgrown child, then,” he says as he casts his gaze to Draco with a soft snickering. Ilma begins speaking again and he audibly sighs in response, shifting his weight to settle in for further lecturing from someone he hardly knows. She is presumptuous but he feels no need to bring this fact to light. The beast croons softly when Anaxarete touches his shoulder in greeting as a smile graces his lips. His gaze falls to Alcinder when he explains that he would like to go home. The statement summons a low growl in his throat as he grows tired of the child’s incessant whining.
“Draco, did we cry this often as newborns?” he asks with a cursory glance to his brother and the aliens, as if they would answer either way. His wings shuffle across his back before lying still once more. His attention draws back to Ilma, stars glimmering across his face as he considers her.
“How do you intend to proposition us when you have nothing of value? Unless, of course, you’d like to take part in our hunting games,” he suggests with a sly grin full of crooked fangs. Ghaul chitters excitedly to the aliens as he often does when he notices them tracking something interesting.
“An overgrown child, then,” he says as he casts his gaze to Draco with a soft snickering. Ilma begins speaking again and he audibly sighs in response, shifting his weight to settle in for further lecturing from someone he hardly knows. She is presumptuous but he feels no need to bring this fact to light. The beast croons softly when Anaxarete touches his shoulder in greeting as a smile graces his lips. His gaze falls to Alcinder when he explains that he would like to go home. The statement summons a low growl in his throat as he grows tired of the child’s incessant whining.
“Draco, did we cry this often as newborns?” he asks with a cursory glance to his brother and the aliens, as if they would answer either way. His wings shuffle across his back before lying still once more. His attention draws back to Ilma, stars glimmering across his face as he considers her.
“How do you intend to proposition us when you have nothing of value? Unless, of course, you’d like to take part in our hunting games,” he suggests with a sly grin full of crooked fangs. Ghaul chitters excitedly to the aliens as he often does when he notices them tracking something interesting.