Stavanger Bay we are graveyards reaching, with haunted bones

Drogon continues to worry his bone as she speaks, his glacial gaze focused upon his prize as he sharpens his teeth and works on strengthening his jaw muscles. He appears inattentive all but for the pivot and cup of his ears to signify that he is, indeed ( and perhaps despite the odds stacked against him ) paying attention to her. He does pause, however as she divulges that she is annoyed that he sees her as a child though she is definitely far from such a thing and reinforces that he is not the boss of her. At these words, the tundrian’s bone is briefly abandoned as his glacial gaze flickers up to her, taking in her expression with careful consideration. He is slightly baffled because he understands and cannot help but wonder if they are so truly different as first impressions caused him to believe. Left ear twitches, pivoting to the side as he lifts his chin ever-so-slightly.

“I don’t blame you.” Drogon tells her. He doesn’t want to be seen as a child either …though unfortunately for him he was still a child. Not mentally, no he’d far since grown up mentally but physically was a whole other story, His body was slower than his mind and still progressed at it’s natural course. “but why leave? Why let him continue to have what he does not deserve? If you don’t think he’s a worthy leader why not challenge him for it?” Because it’s what Drogon would do. At least that exhausted all possible options for leaving to be the only one left. Then again, Drogon forgets that he is a very physical, dominance oriented beast and that not all packs and wolves operated the same way as him. Nor did all admire brute strength ( though Drogon isn’t sure why that’s the case, he wouldn’t want some scrawny thing incapable of protecting the pack as his leader, smart or not ).