The dance between a lion and a tiger.

Akira · February 08, 2019, 09:08 AM

It is already too late to swim when the water reaches your lips.

Her forlorn had been heard, and without much more than a sign, deft ears swiveled over a slender crown. The youth, though educated in how all calls were not meant to be answered, felt this was one who needed a response. The pearl cream body made for the calling, mind taunt on how and where it had sounded. The vocals were not native to her, nor her people, so this must have been one of the walkers of this land. Svelt and silent, the warrioress skipped through the cold snow, angling her trek so that she may atleast see her rouse lest it were merely a deathly ruse.

Floating to the left of the mountainous incline, she made quick the footword of nimble paws over the untelling footholds, her deep sapphires discerning which would tell on her and which would keep her arrival secret. While her slight passage came to an end, she spied the beacon atop the mount peak.
A man, slate, monochrome, and platinum with hidden embellishments of lighter silvers edging his features. He was a man who held himself as though he expected the palace to merely bow to him, but after touching sea gems over everything near, she found he was his only company. A flicker to the perished fox, and she wondered why he had not made his meal, yet. Perhaps he saved it for whomever had come to hear his words-
Perhaps he had chosen to save it for himself, later.

Though his stature was handsome, her culture was strict on who was associated with royalty, and who was associated with peasantry. Should his mannerisms or bloodline be indirect from a proficient dynasty, she would have no reason to be around him. But her soul ached for atleast some companion.

Akira made herself known, taking a shallow step forward, and speaking. It was obvious he was not chinese, but her family had translators who had instilled translators of the most understandable wolfspeak. She wouldn't know however whether her accent had stayed or faded.

"Greetings. I have heard you." Her small form, one meant to land swift hits and crumple under any in return, stayed primed to flee should she need, though the tauntness of her muscles stayed hidden under her peculiar coat.

Not all birds have been taught to fly. Some simply fall until they either learn, or perish.