Totoka River Hold my hand, it's a long way down

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Thyri’s ears flicker lazily atop her skull as he speaks that he has already given her the closer sniff that he desires, informing her of what he has gleamed from her pelage. Mountains and fire, he claims. Mountains she passes over because it is not necessarily untrue but fire? As Thyri knows she has not been in or near any sort of wildfire, nor had she gotten close enough to the Dragon to accumulate any scents of smoke or soot that she is left to assume that it is merely his observation; and if it is that he isn’t wrong. She would always be a dragon regardless that her relationships with more than half her family are murky (and outright terrible for some) at best. It is a precipice she does not stare too long into lest she fall off either side. She thinks, though, that the damage she has done is irreversible. It is her assumption that Gyda and Gavriel have forgiven her because she is their daughter and a parent’s love is not nearly as easy to destroy as a sibling’s. Or of a family that is not bound to her by blood and flesh. Her ears twitch forth once more as he gives his name. Grievous.

Thyri is assuaged, satisfied that her answers to her demands though she does not delude herself. She fully believes that like her he humors her because he desires to, not because he feels inferior to her. She could be wrong but there is a nagging voice in her intuition that tells her that she is not wrong. The sylph’s face is contemplative as he poses his question. “I don’t know,” It is a partial truth as it spills from betwixt her lips. Only a partial lie because while she has a reason for calling out to him it is an uncertain one and not anything she can define (in any of the three languages she knows). Light caramel gaze assess him carefully, slowly, like a painter studying her subject so she does not miss any detail in her rendition. “There is …something,” She gives a small pause, salmon pink tongue drawing across her jowls. “— about you that intrigues me.” There is an unexplained draw, not unlike gravity that is the root of the impulse to stop and further to call out to him. There is nothing (yet) to explore of it and she is content to simply acknowledge that it is there. For now, it is enough.

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