Silverlight Terrace it rattles the bones of our fathers, carries whispers from the dead

Maybe it’s the fact he’s starved for connection in this new land, maybe it was the fact he was always struck dumb by a pretty face, but his tongue was failing him today. He wished he’d smoothed out his fur before this, maybe tried to hide the scars across his white chin. Nobody liked cracked porcelain.

The stranger’s words startled him out of the plan he’d been forming in his mind to see if he could fix himself up a bit, but he’d been perceived. This was his worst nightmare. Lullaren swallowed, throat clicking around the sudden dryness of his mouth, before he took in a breath, using the time to calm his raging thoughts.

“No, no I cannot say you have.” He flashed an awkward smile, the showman in his head screaming at the motion. He was stuck between the romanticism of the moment, and his want to turn on the dramatics like one might turn on a kitchen sink. 

“Hello. It is a wonderful night for a stroll, no?”