Dragoncrest Cliffs if you keep screaming your name, it forces the assailant to acknowledge you as human.

Had Aure been more preceptive of Artaax's outrageous pomp and circumstance, she may've been absolutely stupefied at his own reasonings. Had she not been so nonchalant in her mannerisms, she may've shriveled into laughter on the spot. Had she known all of this, she would've been more than welcome to invite Artaax to listen on how he was most certainly not the most desirable male of Drageda. She may've sneered all the while, too.

But alas, she wasn't aware of any of this, and Artaax could continue to delight himself with the idea that he was the one she'd fallen for. As far as Aure knew — which she didn't, since she was so ignorantly guillible — neither of them would be the wiser to the other's thoughts.

Lucky for him.

In answer, Aure gave a blithe chirrup, "Oh, I haven't found ze time to hunt anything other than rabbits, and my brother." And Verx, something faint from within her simpered. A pleasant smugness at all three notions graced her pale, scarred features, then; Artaax had become the recepient of her sudden, impish demeanor once again. Aure swiveled neatly to face him, heavy-lidded and petulant, "Do you only know how to hunt birds, though? Is there some lore-laden reason to why you hunt birds as you do?"