Emberwood daughter of stone

i've accidentally closed this tab at least 3 times now. *le sigh* Thankfully I write my posts on Pages first so I don't lose my posts, lmao.

As it turns out the girl’s attention is not singularly focused upon her prize for he watches from his peripheral vision as she sets her rock down and repeat the explicit word that had spilled, thoughtlessly, from the boy’s lips. His tongue draws over his wound once more a low grumble in his throat. “Not a word a young lady should be using.” The hypocrisy does not fall beneath the tundrian’s notice as he chides her with a click of his tongue but he isn’t about to point that out to the girl. He lets out an inward groan as she picks her rock back up and then heads right towards him and he cannot help the curl of his lip nor can he stop himself from wondering why her parents didn’t bother teaching her ‘stranger danger’. A tough life lesson that Dragon had personally learned the hard way. Brows furrow as she walks a circle around him and then moves closer — bold as you please! — and has the audacity to push her nose into his fur. It happens so fast and the young warlord sucks in a rough breath and before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that she is a little girl he snaps his teeth at her. His teeth do not make contact — the sharp clack of teeth accented by a low rumble is merely a warning. Not to touch him again.

“Fool girl!” He spits at her, reeling back, putting distance between them as his tail lashes furiously behind him. “You’re going to get yourself killed by sticking your nose in strangers fur like that.” She drops the rock where his paws had once been and if his reaction to her touching him hadn’t sent her away in fear he lets out a low pant to calm the rapid thrum of his heart: a war drum within it’s prison of his flesh and bone, spiked by adrenaline. “You have to be careful, alright?” He emphasizes, his chest rising and falling rapidly once as he sucks in a deep, greedy breath; and ghosts towards her a step. “Strangers are dangerous.” Can she even understand what he’s saying? He doesn’t know; but takes it upon himself to inform her nevertheless.

To show her that he’s ( relatively ) harmless he lowers himself slowly to his belly upon the forest floor, assuming a sphinx-like position. “I’m Drogon. Who’re you?” He tempers his smoke steeped whisky baritone to a softened croon: unsure the first step to what appearing reassuring looks like. He wants to be intimidating, the biggest and the baddest on and off the battlefield that he no longer knows what it’s like to function without that constant mindset; what it’s like to function with that suit of reinforced armor carefully stripped away ( though in this instance it is of his own doing ). “I’m sorry if I scared you, little bird.” Drogon speaks, the words “I’m sorry” feeling foreign on his tongue. He can’t remember the last time he apologized for his behavior ( and is struck with the consideration that he never has before this moment ); nevertheless his words are genuine ( if not partially selfish because he does not want to deal with enraged parents ).