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Her dragon smokes, smoulders, flame licking around his nostrils. (Stop being so pretentious.)
And to that she is tempted to laugh—but she refrains from such outward expressions of joy, declines from happiness. Determination. Steel. That is what she is made of; that is what she shall be.
The first vulture to flock to her is gold and flax, with bone antlers clawing at the air and a shoulder consumed by tree branches. He is, in a way, majestic (but frail, unlike her, she who is solid, rotund, hard bone and corpulent curves.) Nym’s dragon dances, wings flashing, and drifts away from the bat that eagerly approaches. No longer is Lil a hungry fool who’d bite at a potential friend, but he has eaten bats too many times to see Tilney’s companion as anything else but meat.
Nymeria feels that this is a clamor for attention, this stallion courting her affections; her nostrils flare and cusp delicately as she turns hard scarlet eyes upon him, a wolfish smile to appear on her lips. “Hello,” she offers in polite greeting, “and that is exceedingly thoughtful of you, but I’m alright.” For the scarcest moment there is a terrible and old venom that glints beneath her courteous veneer, reminiscent of a black widow or vixen or viper. Then it is gone.
Footsteps, quiet; ears swivel and twist, catching a newcomer’s greeting. Nymeria shifts her gaze to settle upon Hotaru, a faintly familiar face and a recognizable voice. She remembers—a whirlwind of fur, claws and blood, fury and desperation. (A guardian? A savior? One of the many meaningful and yet pointless interactions between adult and child?) It is only fair that Nym offers her a smile.
“It’s taken a long time,” she says, her voice in velvet hush, “but I think I am finally doing well.” It is a personal statement (in an almost intimate way), an invitation of sorts.
A scathing voice in her head—she wasn’t asking for your fucking life story Nym—but the mare shakes off her companion’s condescension. Why don’t you focus on making that filly feel welcome, Lil?
“I do hate to interrupt, you two—but I believe we have company.”
@Tilney
OOC: This is so fucking late and I'm not sure I have an excuse but I hope you guys can forgive me <3
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
