Moonspear How long have I been on the hunt for you?

She rose then, seeming set on letting his words fade into the ether unseen that spilled in to fill the void she left. He watched her, curious then just what it was that her intentions were. Perhaps she would go out enough to draw his gaze even with the horizon and poise, about to make a grand speech. Or perhaps, rather as it were, she would entice him yet again in the same shameless fashion that his company warranted.

The edges of his lips curled lecherous at this sight; she did not speak of debauchery but it was suggested; there were teasing giggles whispered in every calculated step against the stone. Hydra did not wish to humor him further with words any longer and he soon found his feet beneath him to rise and follow. He did not pursue her with the haste that drew her away, but he did not dally any longer than he needed. She would never go quite out of his earshot, not during these days.

"I'd still like to steal you away," he hummed pleasantly. An age old song sung once or twice before, but he had said that he was persistent, hadn't he? "How lovely it would be for you to be free from your trammels and do as we please." And here he supposed she would contest if words would find her, that she did as she pleased. Yet he knew how the world favored those with no masters, and how it awaited those who did not yield. He could sate the ache of his loins with relative ease, but it did little to anchor his desire to roam. It did not stifle the siren song of the desirable something more.