ziva would never admit it should anyone accuse her of it, but she can’t deny that she’s a bit vain. her appearance means a lot of her and she always wants to look nice. when her father had told her all about the ongoing conflict between their kind and vampires and how that meant she would likely have to fight one day, ziva had been horrified. firstly, she has no intention of dying anything but a natural death. secondly, why should she fight? she has no interest in such activity. ziva would prefer to talk things out rather than ever raise her hackles at someone. even a vampire. thirdly, she’s terrified at the prospect of any sort of scar marring her pelt. she likes it as it was, thank you very much. her appearance is another’s first impression of her - so sue her for caring about it. and with adolescence comes a newfound interest in males. or rather, newfound in the sense that her heart flutters at the sight of a handsome one and she has interest aside from making friends with them. for now, physical attraction is all she’d ever experienced with boys and though ziva has been given the… uncomfortable talk with her parents, she’s never actually given a thought to doing anything with a male. as mature as she might pretend to be, ziva’s mind is still rather innocent in nature.
and speak of the devil, the scent of a male enters her nares. one ear flicks back; something has made a soft splash in the water just downstream. ziva turns her head towards the sound to see a stunning male - who her tempest vision allows her to see in complete detail - approaching her and she blinks, taken aback because not only is he the most gorgeous varg she’s ever seen, but he’s coming towards her.
“good evening, m’lady. Would you care for some company?” scratch that: he’s talking to her. a sudden intense emotion unlike any she’s ever felt crashes into her chest and it’s as though all her breath has been taken away. was this what her father had meant when he’d spoken of soulmates? ziva dislikes the very concept of a soulmate, thinking it no fun. she’s always pictured she’ll end up with someone eventually, but it would be longer after she’d had her fun in her youth. a soulmate… now that feels binding and she can’t picture it for herself. and yet, here she is. but she won’t tell the brute that. as far as he’s concerned, soulmates are a thing of imagination. she doesn’t even know if he’s interested in her, for tor’s sake. well, she’ll have to change that. even if ziva doesn’t like the construct of soulmates, she isn’t just going to let this handsome devil go without a word. confidence; confidence is key. the blushing, flustered girl will have to remain internal.
“only if the company if as handsome as yourself.” ziva cocks her head and smirks at him, hoping he can’t catch the inner panic she’s having. ziva has no experience with flirting, no experience with talking to a specimen like this. but she does her best to quell her nerves and instead eyes him up and down. he’s well built - tall and fit - and his coat is a fascinating red merle surely is unique to him among all the inhabitants of blossom forest, and he has feathers... she’s never seen a varg with feathers before, though she’s heard tales of them. yes, he may be her soulmate, but ziva isn’t running from him because when will she ever get the catch the interest of someone like him again. ziva approaches until she’s almost touching him and studies the brute more closely, then dances just out his reach and lets out a hum of satisfaction, as though she’s been carefully judging him this whole time and has decided to give him the time of day.
“my name is ziva. is there a name I can put to your pretty face, sir?”
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