slung low in the highlands; castile

[Kora]

“It’s rude to try roasting someone with fire,” she returns, “but that didn’t stop you.” And it won’t stop Kora, either – especially when that grin of his hasn’t faded in the least. Castile shrugs off her playacting with a chuckle and a tilt of his head, the brimstone of his two-toned gaze meeting the iciness of her own. They are two elements in opposition, and make no mistake. Yet his quick rejoinder causes her to laugh – and this time, the sound is less of a forgery as it leaves her lips. “And you’re already hoping that I’ll remember you at all.” She can see the way his eyes flicker as he looks at her – a look that isn’t altogether unfamiliar anymore. Something of the same had been in Woolf’s scrutiny of her, too. In the end, perhaps power draws power – and while Kora would never admit that this stallion’s swift wit and rakish bearing drew her in at all, it would be a lie to say that she did not feel a spark of interest herself as she stood there, looking right back at him. After a moment’s appraisal passes quite clearly between them, she decides to supply him with an answer. “It’s Kora.” Settling back on her hips, she gives a delicate flick of her silvery tail. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m not quite sure that it is yet.” She doesn’t yet know of the crown he wears nor of the dragon that lies within. Even then, at least he was proving a distraction. “Do you get that often, I wonder?” kora mage of winter

@[Castile]