Neverwinter Forest Simple things

A silent walk carried him from his treacherous blood. As it was not yet due time for the priest to bestow his graces, a distraction was something he sought with eager, hungry eyes.

Distractions come in various forms, some being hideous while others are found to be rather sublime. Who's to say which is which? Fenrir could, without a doubt. In this moment, he held the capability to prove it.

A woman trailed not far off affront him, following the course of the river. Decently sized and curved in the most bewitching places. The darkness of her fur called to him, beckoning him to seal the distance between. And he would do just that.

Favor the falling of the sun, I see? Fenrir's voice carried outward, softening as he neared.

Not too close... you'll frighten her off. The whispers returned.

He did not listen.

There was still space, of course, but he dared not spare an inch he was permitted. Unless she drove him off, the dark sire would come so near enough that he would be the first to touch the wind carrying her sweet scent. The priest's charming, golden gaze fluttered down upon her, grazing her frame from the tail tip until soon reaching her own, emerald eyes.