Phoenix Maplewood each breath invitingly toxic

the sound of nearing footfalls as they tread the earth draws the full weight of praimfaya's attention; frostbound gaze studying the male: smoky grey, scarred with eyes that appeared to be some sort of yellow though there remains still plenty of distance and thus margin for error in her assessment. praimfaya almost laughs when he calls her ma'am; respectful but what the draconian wanheda considers a bit silly. she is no ma'am. she stifles it; barely. my name's praimfaya and you should know i'm not ma'am. she says in a coy tone that she hopes conveys that while ( somewhat ) appreciated she doesn't think this period of introduction needs to be so formal.

i've never hunted bird before ...do you think that would pose a huge issue? if not i'd be glad to help. as for why she's never hunted bird ...well there was never any real need to and frankly, she doubts she has the patience to perfect that particular skill.