The merled woman stops before me, and it would seem that she's not impressed. At least that's what I interpret from her saucy response. My tongue clicks the roof of my mouth as I adopt a similar pose, stretching out one wing unconcernedly. Once again, my pregnancy is progressing to the point where I can't fly as I used to. It is arguably the worst part of bearing offspring, the loss of bodily freedom. I am a creature of the air, and losing that even temporarily is a misery.
With a shrug, I smile at her with practiced innocence. "It's a hard title to let go of, but not to worry. My business here is of a more... domestic nature." Indicating the expanse of my girth with a wry glance. This was heavier than I ever got bearing Kwartz, a fact that my aching back is constantly reminding me of. Dear gods, there was no way for me to be carrying an actual dragon, was there? Only the ever nearing time of birth would tell.
I am saved from the task of making conversation by the arrival of another. The body language between the two is a clear indication of their relationship, and I suspect his identity before the formal introduction. "Greetings Arthas. I am Sabra. Despayr and I were just getting acquainted." Well that was one way to look at their brief conversation. The hardness in his tone raises an eyebrow, but that is the only outward reaction I give him. "I believe you are familiar with a stallion known as Castile. I am claimed by him. Where he goes, I go. If he has pledged his loyalty to you, then so do I. If he has not, then I will be on my way." There was my truth, open and clear. It's careless of me to be so blatant about where my loyalties lie, but this Arthas may as well know what I'm about. He is a stranger to me, as is the snippy creature at his side. They do not illicit the bone deep resonance within me that the smoke and ember stallion I spoke of does.
SABRA
I'm Hell on Heels, Say What You Will
@[Despayr] @[Arthas]