Shimmering Sands glory awaits

Bruxa made an irritated noise, sucking in sharply on her fangs as she tsked at his answer. It had been a fair response, certainly one that would have amused a less prickly and selective she-wolf; but the harpy was only annoyed. "That is no life," she sniffed tartly. He was quite clearly made for just about anything. The male was a warrior; a virile ranger and a northman who appeared both capable and comfortable in his solitude. He was handsome and rich in a mile of strengths, but was he fit for the tether of a natal lifestyle? She thought not. To her he seemed taken with wanderlust; a trait Bruxa could not appreciate, let alone tolerate.

To his credit, she was mildly surprised that he engaged the conversation further, and not being inclined to withhold her own ambitions, Bruxa answered readily. "I am intended for godhood," the hellcat decreed boldly. She looked out towards the water. "For a legacy as immutable as the mountains and as endless as the sea." Her words sounded less like prophecy or grandeur and more like quiet self-assuredness; a deep-rooted certainty that this was her most base and beatific reason for existing. Piercing as daggers, she returned her eyes to him.

By now she'd given him a lenient margin of space. She was a lioness that understood she was in the presence of a full-maned lion— and was therefore unlikely to best him in a one-on-one— but her chin lifted proudly at her admittance, and it was clear that by no means had her dominant mien diminished despite their silent truce. "I need only find blood worth my liege, and a domain in which to kindle my fire."