Ankyra Sound Everyone who sees you falls in love

The hellhound moves across the sand, water dripping from a soaked through pelt. Head low and prowling, sniffing as he goes. Perhaps he’s in search of food, perhaps he’s in search of another canid to sink his teeth into — those are usually much more satisfying. Prey animals are usually predictable, it’s the carnivorous kind that have become much more fun to go against for him. 

So onwards he moves, heavy weight being leg by strong limbs without a care in the world. Until he’s hearing a sound, a familiar one. A greeting used by many animals to signal their presence. Alduin would freeze in his spot, his head doesn’t lift, but his head turns and his eyes rake over the dark horizon. The moonlight bounces off of bloody orbs as he scouts for the source of the voice, only to find them a second later. 

Once spotted, those searching eyes never leave the strangers form. Rather, they move over every inch of them. From their large paws, up strong limbs, a hefty chest full of fur, and further up to their face. He stops on those glowing, golden eyes — how own unblinking. There’s something so very feral about Alduin’s body language — about his presence, the way he moves. He laps at dangerous fangs with a dark tongue and sizes up the other male. 

They don’t seem to want to fight, but does that mean Alduin doesn’t? He wouldn’t mind it. He’s curious though, so he makes the first step forward. It’s experimental, slow, one foot in front of the other until he’s moving prowling towards him at a languid pace. The closer he gets, the bigger he makes himself, raising his massive head and bulking up his shoulders in a classic show of dominance. His ears cup towards him, but when he gets closer he stops a fair ten or so feet away and levels him with an intense, dark, but curious gaze.

“Who are you?” It’s a question, but it comes out more like a rumbling, husky statement.