Redhawk Caldera westworld

He watched Raven eagerly, his fat tail picking up a quick, thumping beat, as she agreed finally to bond with him; he seemed to be genuinely happy, despite the absence of a smile. Stormy eyes never left her, studying each sleek limb as the pitch bird settled beside him. Kaizer looked to her face then, studying what remained there of her hesitance, before he leaned forward and buried his muzzle into her shoulder. The wolf inhaled sharply, pressing his tongue into downy-black fur and tasting her recent adventures, lost outside the caldera, and plants she spent the most time with. He had pictures in his head, weaving together slowly as he fell into a rhythm of sniffing intently and then licking to smooth the fur there. His nose traveled along the ridge of her shoulder, all of him relaxed and content to be lost in her perfume.

"Mm..." he murmured, pausing at the base of her neck. "You smell like... flowers. Red ones," he finished in a low mumble, ears flattening and eyes closing as he began to concentrate nibbling in the crook of her shoulders. Bluesummer wasn't wise on the names and uses of the plants he saw in his head, but he personally had no interest in such things, so it didn't matter to him at any rate.