Wapun Meadow think you're so criminal

mindful of the pack that borders the meadow, hadrian sticks to the heartland of the territory. the meadow itself is a bright pop of colorful wildflowers, coupled by an exotic perfume that hangs around the vicinity of the meadow. after half an hour of meandering through the meadow, hadrian begins to doubt this choice: no doubt when he departs it will take some time to rid his pelage of the subtle and exotic floral scent that will cling to it.

soft, silk petals crush beneath his paws as he moves towards the cottonwood trees and the soft bubbling creek he hears nearby and idly mentally mapping the lingering scent of pronghorns that've recently passed through; whatever his misgivings about the territory itself might be he doesn't deny it's a sight for sore eyes — and neither is the pallid woman whom frostbound silver gaze falls upon: a stark contrast to the vivid colors around her.

she's the kind of beautiful that's immediately noted ...and he hesitates, considering altering his course. he's aware that his narcissistic behaviors does not repute him as the friendliest of trajan's children but it seemed like such a waste to not use his diplomatic skills, to keep them sharp. practice made perfect, right? hadrian does not seek to close any more of the distance between them but instead lets out a low chuff to announce his presence to her, if she was not already aware of him.