Serpent Lake הזר

she approaches him further, slinking catlike until her muzzle rests right up beside his chin. instinctively, the skin around his nose wrinkles. izaiah longs to pull back and yet he doesn't. he is still, as if she had turned him to stone. a rumble breaks from the dark throat.
she is confusing. in some way, alluring.
had he hands, he would be tightening his collar, perhaps dusting them outside of his pockets. hassan ibn-nazih. a doctor of the minya district, the hazel eyes are hard and inquisitive, searching the small face, looking. she does not deny her knowledge of this place's existence, and so he continues to press onward. he says there is a queen here who i am to serve. can you take me to her?
breath caught stiffly in the man's throat, izaiah turns his head slightly away; not far enough to where the warmth of her lips is distant, but enough to create mystery, space, intrigue. push and pull. perhaps there is a strategy here. you still haven't told me your name.