“Oh of course, you seem more suited to walking a throne room than wandering a desert.” A wink accompanies the smooth velvet of his baritones, the ever present smirk wrought upon his dark lips. Indeed, through the centuries Thaeron had become a good judge of character and though he could glean little from the shadows of her face, there was something about the way she held herself and the iron-light in her eyes that made him wonder if she was forged to rule kingdoms.
Interest sets alight in the poison green of her eyes as he talked of the shifters, ones born with the ability to turn into a dragon. In truth, those cursed with power to walk in another form were hunted in his homeworld, for little more than a myth and the iron-cast law of a long dead tyrant king. There were those that had fought the cruelty of the regime, but even rumours of the infamous White Wolf had died out by the time Thaeron set out in search of new lands.
“It is not as fun as it sounds- most shifters are hunted and executed for their powers.” Despite the chuckle in his voice the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes then. The memories of watching the world turn to shit as century after century washed away the land he and his brethren had once presided over. He may have been the patron of destruction but Thaeron had never been cruel in his wars, never attempted to hunt a species to extinction.
For a moment silence followed his question as the keen-eyed mare regards him. Gracefully she begins to walk around him, as though seeing if he were up to the task. Thaeron resists the urge to tense his muscles, to show that the centuries had honed his form into the perfect weapon. Instead he stands perfectly still and watches the dark femme from the corner of his eyes as she circles him. The smirk never leaves his face, but this time it seems to take on a more dangerous, chaotic hint. There was nothing that could set his blood aflame more than the prospect of a fight. And the more dangerous the better.
“Lucinda,” he says, playing her name across his tongue, blood-hewn eyes glinting.
“Thaeronovian, but everyone calls me Thaeron.” In truth he hated his full name. Besides the weapon at his shoulder and the companion he’d left in Alanaris, it was the final ash of the life he’d burnt centuries ago.
Her glance is audacious, daring him to follow her and the fallen god is beginning to wonder which of them is the cat and which is the mouse. “Let the quest begin,” he repeats and strides to catch her up, his long legs easily matching her pace.
@Lucinda <3
