:::not here for my _{confessionals:::}

She was young, this is true, and yet Malignus picked up a subtle difference in her mannerisms that he had not before come across. A certain air of danger, tinge of malice that he soaked into his bones until his flesh grew warm from the sheer intensity of it. He landed before her with all the ease and grace of a wildcat, his slanted, pale-yellow eyes reminiscent of one also. Much to his surprise though, instead of starting as he imagined she would, the girl merely paused in her humming and walking to gaze suspiciously at him through orbs the colour of weeping fronds before granting him a wave of her tail, brief and yet enough to waft her feminine perfume his way. The dragon sniffed appreciatively, admiring her unique markings and slender, girlish bodice but he did not react as he might usually have, content to delve a little deeper into her thoughts before he delved into her body.

Thus, it was with a flourish of his head and a friendly grin that he spoke, although it was clear to him that the youngster did not buy into his game of masks. She did not panic though, nor did she call him out. She merely replied curtly before her red lips parted in a grin and, in a suddenly puppyish manner, she enquired as to his resting place. He followed her gaze upwards, admiring his perch for what it was – a spark of ingenuitive thinking – before turning back to the little female. Although he did not have any stringent rules against plundering younger wolves (in fact he relished it) this particular one lost a touch of the beauty he had first noted in her and gained a charming, childish air that amused the male as opposed to turned him on. Perhaps it was the way her ears still flopped across her brow?

In any event, he was called upon to give an answer and he did so, a hint of indulgence in his voice, “Very clever, dear lady. I see your night-mother taught you well. You know better than to trust a smooth stranger, even if he is an artiste.”
Malignus chuckled heartily, but kept one eye on his surroundings too, just in case the little Widow was a trap and he, the clueless fly, had just stumbled into it. Nothing alarming happened in the next few moments, however, and he felt confident enough to refocus on the femme when she next spoke, revealing both her intelligence and her preferences as she watched him hopefully. He tried not to grimace, having never acquired the taste for lupine flesh but, he supposed, if she let him have his way with their prey before they killed it, he wouldn't mind helping her out.

“Definitely taught too-well. I personally prefer something edible over someone edible but, I don't see why I can't help a pretty lady catch her next meal.”

He licked his lips and eyed her appreciatively again, still enjoying her company more than he should have. He didn't know what it was about the female gender that excited him so, but he couldn't contain himself when they were around him, especially one as similar to himself as Widow seemed to be.