Neverwinter Forest painted the hunger onto my skin

Drogon has a growing reputation of being curt, to the point of being insulting — though honestly the tundrian is making quite a reputation for himself in the worst of ways. The juvenile delinquent couldn’t be bothered to care much. He’s brash and honest ( well, as honest as he can be ) and apathetic and it’s never personal. It’s just his natural defense to the world around him: prickly and unkind …just like the world. If Miyako was insulted by his brisk response she did not show it. Dragon stands by, idly, while she eats her fill, never letting his gaze linger upon her for too long ( because he didn’t want her to think he was being impatient ). It touches upon her here and there but mostly it roams the stalwart coniferous trees around them ensuring that they do not get any unwanted guests before they are ready to turn the corpse over to the scavengers.

She steps back and Drogon takes his turn feasting upon their kill. The flesh is soft and the meat aged like fine wine. It is succulent and rich and as he was not overly hungry to begin with it does not take Drogon long, either, to fill his stomach. He takes a step back and draws his salmon pink tongue across his jowls to clean them of bits of flesh and blood as he looks back to his companion. The soturi is good at collecting companions but he never stays with them long, whether of their devices or his own. He has become a solitary creature from a very young age but he sees the benefit of companionship. This instance, for example. “Where are you headed?” Drogon inquires, understanding that given that she is new to the Wilds ( as she has stated previously ) that she may not yet know.