His descent had been a soundless symphony. As a dragon, Lior seemed to possess a more elegant demeanor and a grace he had never mastered as a stallion. His stands alone, under the early dawn, tasting dew and the crisp strands of green grass when the most gentlest of voices ripples his secluded world. A small, single syllable is enough to rip him from his murky thoughts, a tiny 'hi'. The tall male ends the abrupt tearing and pauses a moment to suddenly inhale a perfume of an unknown mare.
His head jerks high, pale silver eyes immediately scrutinizing for some malice, taking a step forward without hesitation or forward thought. Lior does not wish to crowd her or invade her respective distance but it shall be known that without his queen or children, he feared nothing anymore. Lior is not a creature of poetic stanzas. One could never quite string together a quote longer than a few brisk grunts from the older equine for he chose to speak fluently with those worth sharing conversation. Ferocious with his eyes alone, he reads her smoky face, his pale eyes flit over her form and notes the stretch of her heavy scars. She was no dainty creature interrupting him for coy conversation...there was fading starlight in her eyes but starlight nonetheless. Lior snorts and drops his head once again to tear a mouthful of the green grass, chewing and wondering how he should proceed.
He could simply leave, never to see her again, unbothered and alone in his cave but he is tired of the isolation and his own thoughts. He could actually feel the craving of foreign conversation. "Hello." The voice is low and thick, aged in whisky with depth thatched by leather. Lior remembers to be polite (for Nayl would have nipped him hard on the shoulder) and lifts his head to soften his expression. This time Lior notices her modesty, her body curls slightly inward and he blames himself for the crumble of a seemingly war-hardened mare. "Sorry." The word is grunted softly as he drops his eyes momentarily and allows a few seconds to tick away. "I'm Lior." He breathes his own name lowly, a burn that tasted exquisite on his own tongue. How many years had it been since he had to introduce himself? How long had it been since he had even left the solitude of his Nerinen cave? He can sense a long dormant excitement budding somewhere in his depths.
As much as he can muster, Lior attempts to soften his features from a feral beast to that of polite recognition. He pressed his ears forward while flicking his mane from his eyes so she may see his full feature and relaxes his crested, corded neck. She was not much smaller than himself but her body wove tales of hardships for perhaps her entire existence. He tenses at his own regret as potentially causing her unease. "Your name?" The Lior before this would not have asked, content to refer to her as simply 'mare', but Nayl had taught him respect. She had taught him manners and tamed the shabby beast he had once been (though his outward appearance certainly did not reflect it in this moment).
He does not attempt any moves forward but scents the air for any familiarity. Perhaps her name, her lineage, could be a glimpse into a recognizable identity. The dark male falls silent as he awaited her reply, silver eyes moving from scars to the fading starlight that threatened to trick him into thinking he had imagined it.
but i can still remember just the way you taste