| Onias
He was made aware of her presence soon after she began to observe him, the quiet laugh not escaping his swiveling ears. Onias remained silent, however, allowing her to observe however she saw fit. Orange eyes moved to the side and caught a fleeting glimpse of the stranger on the riverbank, but he made no other moves to signifying that he even knew she was there at all. There was no reason to be hasty, nor scare off the woman-- he could feel it, something about her was strange. Perhaps she would be one who already knew what he had to offer, and the very thought of it was enticing. Another, perhaps, who operated behind the curtain.
Her snort was what caused him to finally look over, as she moved towards him with a sort of indolence to her steps. Onias drew himself up, rising to his paws and turning to face her as she approached him. He raised his head, commanding and dogmatic, but there was a curious and hungry glint in his eyes. As he faced her, he could tell that she was as he was, out of place in this world. Perhaps they were not of the same creed, but there was some sort of kinship between them. His face softened into that of a kind patriarch, compassionate, but stern. Onias simply met her gaze, then, unmoving, observing her as she had observed him. It was tit for tat, after all. An equal exchange was necessary.
Onias huffed softly under his breath, before clicking his tongue, his entire head swiveling to view her from all angles. It was not her beauty that enticed him, but her sway, and the way she had approached him. It was not as if he denied himself the simple pleasures of the earth that he lived upon (for what good was it for if not for that) but it was not her womanhood that called out to him. There was an otherworldly sheen to her, someone who did not simply operate behind the curtain but was born into being from it. He tilted his head, all glittering eyes and the slickness of oil, seeming to drip from each hair on his pelt. The male closed the distance between them, breathing evenly as his nostrils flared to catch her scent.
"Who, pray tell, are you?" The question was spoken with a strange sort of amazement. Drogon had been gruff, simply-worded, but the silence was what intrigued him the most. The woman before him was silent but she was also very loud, and it perplexed Onias to the point of near obsession.
If you ain't got money, it can't save your soul.
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