Common

Ears rotate atop his crown as her words fill the space between them. He listens to her tongue weave the tale of how she has been to these shores, not once but twice. He dares to draw nearer to her as she turns her face from the distant horizon to look squarely upon him. He takes in her delicate features, from the sharp edge of her cheekbone to the delicate curve of her nape. Her alabaster skin glows beneath the fading light of the evening, pure white stark against the backdrop of the sea.

May I know your name? Her question lingers on the sea breeze, with a dip of his chiseled crown he nods. "Of course, I am Bahadır, Sultan of the Dunes, son of the late Orhan," he says with a proud raise of his head. He is uncertain if any of this spark recognition to life.

"May I know yours as well?" he asks. He has yet to meet anyone who's eyes flicker at the name of his father. He had known by the tales his mother had weaved that his father was kind and respected here on the Isles. His tail flicks idly against his speckled sides as he waits patiently for her name to fall from her dark lips.

The whole time he converses with the alabaster woman, he keeps his guard raised. His dark eyes roam behind her, his ears flick occasionally atop his chiseled crown and his body tense ready to send her to the sea. Tension on the Isles has begun to shift, it whispers in the still grass and across the searing desert sands. War is coming and it puts him on edge.