.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
fear the vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the vulture.
The night of the demon-esque ram and the candy that had littered his mane and tail (—it had taken nearly the entire remaining Orangemoon to rid himself of the stick candies, so tangled were they in his messy locks) floods his mind the moment the quiet, feminine voice filtered into the clearing, “Let me see that.” His starkly white face whipped towards the petite, slender, white-speckled woman, a roguish grin crossed over the pained grimace of his muzzle.
Hot eyes leave their generous admiration of the woman’s light, elegant to dart at the white dragon that accompanied her. His dark brows raise slightly, questioningly, at the winged reptile—as if to ask ’who is this?’— before his attention wholly returned to Nayja.
At her murmur, his gaze left the soft, svelte curve of her white-specked neck to meet the warm hazel of her glance. “My lovely Lady Najya, do forgive me. Your beauty stole my manners,” he grinned and winked in playful flirtation, “I am Graasvoel, but all call me Gaal.” “Would you like me to take care of that for you?” Her offer caught him off guard for a moment, heat pooling beneath his barrel—but then his bright, sharp red-and-yellow gaze followed hers to the dribbling blood (whose sting was truthfully more annoyance than pain; but Gaal was never one to pass up an opportunity).
A wicked response of what he’d like the deep russet, velvet-coated woman to take care nearly left his lips—but instead, he simply nodded his heavy, bearded head, “I’d like that quite a bit,” was his deep, rough, warm reply. Though the clearing was small—especially given his bulk— the vulture didn’t quite shift to it’s outer limit; instead keeping both he and the hot-blooded beauty in close quarters. Off-handedly, a hind hoof kicked a stick towards his (slowly growing) pile.
graasvoel
@Najya
Please tag Graasvoel in all posts.
