Lion Head Mesa [sc] [M] Diamonds Under my Eyes

Sorry for the wait!

The wolf-dog watched his companion with an amused grin, Come along, turtle, he chirped, his voice a melodic lilt that cut through the cacophony of the gathering. Prancing gracefully through the throng of bodies, he beckoned with a flick of his tail, there are more this way.

Machiavelli moved with almost predatory grace, his piebald coat glowing under the moon's silver light as he slipped around to the far side of the displayed refreshments, away from the crowd. He paused by the makeshift stone table laden with an assortment of delicacies, a glint dancing in his stained-glass eyes as he reached for a bowl of fruit fermented to perfection.

The man took a few, popping them between shining teeth with a smile. These are somewhat different from what you tasted before, but their effect remains quite the same, he purred, his voice low and inviting. He took a berry between his clear-pink nails, holding it up to the man. May I? Machiavelli asked, his tone a low, persuasive murmur. His gaze traveled down the length of his companion's arms, briefly wondering at their strength.

Just a taste, he coaxed, leaning in slightly, his breath warm against the other’s skin. It will help with the nerves.