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07-16-2012, 06:17 PM
now hear the dark gun
punching
out
that I may love you
That the fair maiden had known her parents was a reasonable assumption. Perhaps she had, but she didn't acknowledge who the belle's parents were, at least not with incredulous certainty, and therefore had no way to compile a doubtless conclusion. She hadn't so much as seen Ktulu before now, so it was out of the question for her to recognize her parents, although the resemblance she bared to Paladin bestowed upon her a lurid suspicion.
She wouldn't necessarily be surprised if he was in fact her sire. "What were their names?" She chirped with a vague smile. The compliment which had been thrown in her direction had caught the ivory damsel off guard, but never the less she accepted it nervelessly and listened on as she continued to speak. "Thanks." She averred somewhat awkwardly, a wispy grin evinced upon her lips and the words lubricated with the faintest trace of laughter. Meanwhile, the spindly tendrils of her docile tail swatted idly against her haunches. How long had it been since she held a conversation with another?
As she listened she cocked her hind leg to perch on the edge of her dished hoof, finding it all almost too much to take in. It almost felt as though making this her new home would be betraying Isilme, but she soon realized the naivety of such a thought. "I would appreciate that Ktulu." She paused, contemplating for a brief moment. "What is the Dragon's Throat like?" Curiosity literally dripped from her lips.
Eyes of dulcet Bulgarian lavender then clinched upon the figure of Paladin. Her heart skipped a beat, then skittered irrepressibly in her cavernous bosom. It was him, this she was convinced with entire authority, her assurance farther verified by the manner he regarded her with his crimson irises, then tensed - flummoxed, shocked.
Who could blame him, really?
Her mouth hovered open, the crevice in her lips dividing, revealing in earnest her chasmal oral cavity. Her earns flitted anxiously, then perked forward as the masculine tenor of his voice sidled through the air and divulged his astonishment. "Paladin." It was like a mere whisper, loud enough to be audible though far from an ardent clarion. "I- uh, it's been a while." Slender ears jerked back simultaneously, assaulted by the assailing narrative of her voice. What else was she supposed to say?
She was admittedly fazed by his reluctance, but her auditory receptors soon repositioned: one flicked forward with anxiousness; the other directed sideways, suspended with incertitude.
She wouldn't necessarily be surprised if he was in fact her sire. "What were their names?" She chirped with a vague smile. The compliment which had been thrown in her direction had caught the ivory damsel off guard, but never the less she accepted it nervelessly and listened on as she continued to speak. "Thanks." She averred somewhat awkwardly, a wispy grin evinced upon her lips and the words lubricated with the faintest trace of laughter. Meanwhile, the spindly tendrils of her docile tail swatted idly against her haunches. How long had it been since she held a conversation with another?
As she listened she cocked her hind leg to perch on the edge of her dished hoof, finding it all almost too much to take in. It almost felt as though making this her new home would be betraying Isilme, but she soon realized the naivety of such a thought. "I would appreciate that Ktulu." She paused, contemplating for a brief moment. "What is the Dragon's Throat like?" Curiosity literally dripped from her lips.
Eyes of dulcet Bulgarian lavender then clinched upon the figure of Paladin. Her heart skipped a beat, then skittered irrepressibly in her cavernous bosom. It was him, this she was convinced with entire authority, her assurance farther verified by the manner he regarded her with his crimson irises, then tensed - flummoxed, shocked.
Who could blame him, really?
Her mouth hovered open, the crevice in her lips dividing, revealing in earnest her chasmal oral cavity. Her earns flitted anxiously, then perked forward as the masculine tenor of his voice sidled through the air and divulged his astonishment. "Paladin." It was like a mere whisper, loud enough to be audible though far from an ardent clarion. "I- uh, it's been a while." Slender ears jerked back simultaneously, assaulted by the assailing narrative of her voice. What else was she supposed to say?
She was admittedly fazed by his reluctance, but her auditory receptors soon repositioned: one flicked forward with anxiousness; the other directed sideways, suspended with incertitude.
valhalla
