Altar of Twilight i'm feeling primitive

Drogon feels the creep of a flush in his cheeks beneath umbra pelage of his face when she contradicts his words. That’s what he gets for trying to show off, he thinks. He gets schooled. Drogon thinks he should stick to what he knows and that knowledge does not extend to stargazing. “Oh,” He sucks in his breath and puffs out his chest, giving his mane a shake for a second as he releases it slowly, taking in the merriment in which her face appeared to shine with. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Because, hell, he’d been impressed with this. He couldn’t imagine how impressed he’d be with a spot that was actually good for stargazing. Their conversation moved to Hydra with Galaxy’s inquiry and Drogon’s glacial gaze goes from the pale sister to the Beta female and he offers her an easy grin. “Yeah, she was the one that recruited me, actually,” Drogon admits. “She’s my mentor.” The soturi adds with a pride that mirrors Galaxy’s own when she informs him that Hydra is the Beta. “Hydra’s pretty cool, isn’t she?” Drogon asks Galaxy in a stage whisper, like it was a secret shared between them though he isn’t being overly quiet. He likes Hydra and not just in the unrequited boyhood crush way: she is cool and he looks forwards to her lessons, glad that she chose him as her pupil.

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