I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
The fact that she displays draconic traits so openly might have put him on edge if he had not already been balanced on that precarious precipice for another reason. As it is, the wings and quickly suppressed scales and spikes draw little more than a passing glance. The possibility of death by dragon pales in comparison to the visceral reaction stirred by the familiarity of her features.
It occurs to him belatedly that he never should have spoken. Never should have offered such a rhetorical question when he has no desire to answer the inevitable confusion it wrought. He could hardly expect her to know how much her features remind him of another, regardless of the immediate irritation that spikes through him.
His lips curl into a derisive sneer as he glares at her, features unyielding, wings tense where they rest at his sides. He doesn’t answer for a long time. Debates whether he should answer her at all. This is hardly a conversation he wants to have. Which begs the question whether answering her or ignoring her will make her leave faster.
Try as he might, however, he can’t get a good read on her. She doesn’t betray any dogged curiosity, no fear, no interest. Only cautious distrust. In the end, there’s no damned way what he has to say will make her trust him. Which means she might leave if he gave her reason not to.
“Ryatah’s fucking kids.” Or grandkids, though the difference hardly matters to him. His snapped reply leaves very little doubt of his thoughts on the subject. They invariably seem placed in his path only to annoy and infuriate him. Some more than others admittedly, but all have gotten under his skin regardless.
And if his dark glower is anything to go by, this one wouldn’t have to try very hard either.
@Casimira