Fishblight Mire feels like day two of an endless war

upon closer inspection as the stranger draws nearer and taarlok takes in the bristled fur along the other's spine there are accents of rust that makes him jealous. he'd never admit it aloud, of course. his coat patterning and coloration is malinois which is unsurprising as he takes after his mother in such regards. the thick coat, wolfish build and his eyes are all he took from his father. still, taarlok's jealousy is easily soothed by the fact that the stranger is very pleasing to look at. his greedy, magpie eye is naturally drawn to pretty things. taarlok lounges on his rock as if he is a king upon his throne. it is a pretense, a façade and while he's certainly pretentious enough for it he's always been a mutt and will always be thought lesser of for it ( at least, he assumes, by pure blooded wolves ). that doesn't mean he can't implore the fake it 'til you make it tactic. it's worked fairly well so far, noble bearing as arishok's son withstanding.

the stranger is the first to speak, his tone quiet and very pleasant. it takes all of taarlok's effort to avoid the sigh that threatens to escape him. he's always had a weakness for nice voices. those kinds of voices that you just wanted to hear even if you couldn't understand the words that were uttered in it. "hello," the imperial returns the greeting, mercurial gaze appraising him again, subtly, noting details he hadn't noticed the first or even second time. taarlok isn't sure whether it's his sharpened features or his dark pelage but the stranger's smoldering bronze eyes stand out in stark contrast and leaves taarlok with the distinct feeling of his skin being on fire. it isn't, of course, but he suddenly feels not nevertheless.

taarlok makes a softly contemplative and noncommittal noise in his throat and speaks casually, attempting to weave the illusion that the thought just occured to him as opposed to letting on that it's consumed him for the past how many ever seconds — or was it minutes? — that had passed since he truly took notice, "your eyes could start wildfires, you know." spoken to undoubtedly be a compliment. there was another at the tip of his tongue: how, like helen of troy, the stranger had a face that a man would start a war for but resists due to his uncertainty of how it might go over. taarlok didn't particularly wish to scare the other male off, after all.