Moonspear be devout to hunger, child

you get my 200th post! :D

Drogon’s lips curl up in a ghost of a smile as Wraen is quick to offer him an alternative to his belief that it’s a curse: she brings to his attention that perhaps it is a gift. Drogon can see the advantage of it: of being thought as shallow because he’s handsome or charming; a deception that he’s afraid to bleed ( he’s not ). Or that his narcissistic tendencies are so great that while he could put off that he’s so self absorbed so that no one pays him any mind whilst gathering information. There were definitely possibilities and Drogon suddenly wanted to know how many wolves he could wrap around his paw. Maybe it wouldn’t work at all. The Ansbjørn was known for going through phases of the need and want to prove he’s the big bad at all and any cost. Where the charming leijona melts away to brutish, brooding and harsh sotapäällikkö in the making. Drogon laughs as Wraen pretends to be scared and rolls his eyes playfully at her, letting out a low snort when she asks: with a head tilt and smile if she should be scared. Drogon pretends to think about it, delving into his theatrics side as a thespian as he tries to make it as dramatic as he can ( if only to make it silly ). “Only if you want to be.” Drogon rumbles with a cheshire grin, his deep, husky timbre playful, conveying what his expression does not: that he’s still jesting and that this exchange is still light-hearted.