Moonspear blood [m]oon rising

She grinned at his words; truly, he was an eloquent man. It was one of the many reasons why she was drawn to him; his tongue suited the sharpness of her own. Hers took the shape of whip and knife as she willed it, but those were not the only things it could morph into. Now was proof of this. Hydra grinned at his words, her brows playfully rising: me, apologize? Never, she quipped as she shifted away only a measure to better look at his eyes filled with warm honey. She teased again, moving now to nibble against his jawline, slowly, toward his throat (though never arriving to that point) before she paused, tilting her head upward. You do not like my teeth? Here, a small smile was given, her tail waving to again fan out the scent she was not aware she exuded. 

It clouded her mind as much as it would any other that encountered her. 

Hydra observed him carefully, sighing a little before leaning back into him. She wondered, quietly, of things, but was content to be lost in the moment. She did know what the moment might come to, though, if her mothers words carried truth to them. Hydra believed that of any man here within Moonspear's boundaries, Dirge was worthy of her. He likely knew it himself, too; but now, it was time to confirm it. 

What do you think, she drawled, moving against the side of him to better present her rear-end to his olfactory senses, of children, Dirge? Guaranteed followers of our empire to-be, she wrapped around him, now, completing only a semi-circle so that her notched ear flicked near his whiskers. The implication was clear: she thought he was suited for it. Sound mind, sound body, and, well, she—

Before she could let the thought develop to fruition, Hydra exhaled. Be my mate, she offered, my partner—in all things, she invited, those final thoughts culminating to these words.