The colored beauty—the vibrant gem of the Korofi House of Laws— had been a creatures of confusion for the Gaal—the disappointing goliath of the House of Arms. She had been even more of a confounding puzzle than most other women; which, as women were conundrums in themselves, was quite an accomplishment for Saar. She was passionate in public only to turn a viciously cold shoulder to his advances moments later, without any word of warning. She would welcome quiet confidences in alleys and courtyards, privately establishing some strange foundation of trust in their familial-promised union; only to turn on him in cool aloofness around friends or family. But the promise of her flesh was too sweet; the seduction in her smile too enticing for the giant, winged vulture to swear her off.

So he had been left a wanting mess of urges and needs, pulled along by his own self-damming desires. And it was this desire that caused relief to flash through his widened eyes with her happy exclamation and quiet, sensual purr. A pleased grin curved up the dark lips of his white muzzle—despite the warning growl that drew a flick of his gaze towards Jata. He noted the bristled feathers with mild amusement, before sweeping his attention back to where his outstretched muzzle made contact with the soft, silken skin behind Saar’s jaw. He lightly traced up behind her ear with his muzzle, lipping the skin there—his favored place on her colorful body for it’s soft sensitivity.

She asked why he left without her—but she, of anyone should know the reasons he left so abruptly. But before he could delve into the confusion he so often found himself in around Saar, he found himself in the also familiar fog of lust as she used his pet name for him.

Though he was not left long to revel in such things, for Jata’s gruff and grim voice broke through. He withdrew his head and turning his attention back to the black Behemoth and the the Bluebird. The Dragon’s Throat? He recalled the black and gold beauty who had offered him a place in the Throat long ago.

His ears flicked forward, listening to the angry threats of the bristling bird—peacocking for whom? He had left his family behind? There was no honor to defend here. And, within the same breath as his threats, he accepted a home with the Gladiator Volterra in the Dragon’s Throat. Graasvoel snorted softly, “Enjoy your hot sands, Jata—though the women I’ve seen from the Throat are a gift to the eyes. However, I find the Edge’s cooler weather to be better for… activities.”

His raptor’s gaze and attention swept back to Saar, “I would be happy to show you my new home,” his gruff voice was quiet—almost hopeful?— as he offered the woman a place in the Edge.
G R A A S V O E L