Golden Glade Half way on a slow move

Kynareth stands in all his glory, leani mg away front he tree and onto his full weight he wonder where that silky voice must come from. Or maybe he’s finally lost his marbles.

Though his more logical side tells the brute that the noise comes from behind him and his thick ears are flicking backwards to listen. The curl of his tail is in a high arch over his hips and as he turns it waves slightly at the thought of some possible fun with a stranger. A beautiful sounding stranger too, the accent only giving Donovan more fuel to his lewd imagination.

So finally he turns his head to meet this strangers eyes and ooh, is he smitten. The stark, eerie contrast of the colors those hues have. The coal circles lining them and the paleness of his coat has Kynareth’s mind going in all directions. This man is so different than any other he’s met before, especially since being caught up in the Wilds. Something different about this man has Donovan already cracking a charmingly suggestive smile. His eyes lids casually relaxed over those hawkish gold orbs of his he gazes upon the other with casual interest even though he would already call himself obsessed with this mystery man before him.

“Oh?” He hums in his own deep voice. Not moving any closer to the other just in case it would displease him. He does shift his weight and the obvious muscles beneath his brindle pelt move tantalizingly — full of power. “And which one was that?” He asks silky smooth as a black tongue flicks out to lick over his whiskers.