Falls

Drogon

Drogon had retreated to the Crossing after his encounter with the little monochrome mare from the Harbor. And while he wanted to claim that it was the thrill of conquest that had driven him from the confines of the Ridge, he knew that he was lying to himself. Somehow, someway, spending the afternoon with pretty little Tina had left him feeling guilty, rather than liberated. As if he had anyone left to be faithful to anymore. Angry with himself, he'd taken off for the Crossing without a word to anyone. He wasn't sure how long he'd stay, but an idea had begun to bloom in his mind that refused to be quiet.

He hadn't, however, planned on meeting a mare so quickly. She buzzed by him, clearly upset by someone she'd met in the commons - if her trajectory and cursing were any indications. He watched her go at first without interrupting, simply pausing to admire the delicate lines of her figure and the proud cant of her gait. She was objectively beautiful, the sort of mare that would turn heads no matter where she went or what she was doing, and he found himself surprised that she hadn't been followed immediately. Whoever it was was clearly losing out.

Drogon emerged from the shadows and followed her path toward the waterfall with a quiet grin on his lips. She was fiery, and he was liable to get burned, but the thought he might enjoy a little pain these days to lessen the ache in his heart.

"What's a pretty thing like you want with a swamp?" He sauntered closer, neck bowed into a taut arch. As a boy, he'd seen his father approach the girls he liked with such confidence, and he channeled those memories now as he moved to a halt next to her. "Surely you didn't allow one of those craven fools to put a mark on such a fine-boned shoulder. They wouldn't know what to do with the likes of you."

It was almost a relief to feel no deeper emotional pull toward her as he settled. He'd grown so used to caring for Svenja and Charybdis, that the freedom of just... not, was exhilarating. Even when he'd been wrapped up in Valentina's embrace, thinking of nothing save for the press of her slender figure against his own, he'd been so lost in his own hangups that it had felt like more to him. But this? This was just flattery between two strangers for the sake of flattery. She was a pretty thing, and deserved to be called pretty, and if it led to something more physical... well, he wasn't about to tell her no.

Can you feel it?