Wapun Meadow 고기를 먹고 싶어 샤샤샤

Coelacanth did not quail from Kierkegaard’s intent expression; his fiery gaze was too poignantly reminiscent of Corten’s descendants to ever fear it. Quite the opposite, she found it easy to lose herself in those citrine eyes, even as her tapered muzzle dipped in an affirmative nod to his query. The inky ingénue, having known her weary companion for less than a day, already trusted him implicitly — and when it came time for her to leave him and return to her brother for the night, she did so with a soft brush of her muzzle against one serpentine shoulder and a lilting whine of affection.