“Hmmmm,” Draco hums to himself as the constant breeze of Pangea ties his flecked mane in knots. He drags a curious gaze across the horizon before picking up the crash of an approaching equine. The dust stirs at his hooves when he halts, finding a home in the fur just above his hooves that tints his glimmering black red. Briefly, he admires the sunset red color—and when he returns his gaze to ahead of him, his horn-eyed brother is rushing toward him.
While most will fear Ghaul’s headlong rush, Draco’s chest merely swells in anticipation. He grows giddy with the feeling: a fiercely wide grin splits his lips, a little shuffling prance moves his hooves, a ballooning in his head clouds his emotions. The demon boy leans into his brother’s studying, eager for him to know every cut of his chin and knit of his brow. For the first time since Litotes’ disappearance, Draco feels almost . . . content.
He smiles a smile that hums and lives and births futures.
“Ghaul, shadow to my light,” he murmurs back, dragging glowing crimson eyes over every line the drake possesses. “I am Draco . . .” he trails off while swallowing back a laugh, feeling as if he should have a title but knowing it is not quite his style.
“They call me a demon.” That feels right.
Draco realizes that he is so focused on Ghaul’s physical presence that he has not yet touched his thoughts. As he is about to immerse himself, the persistent thoughts of another flood in. The demon whips his head around, feeling almost protective of the creature that is certainly much fiercer than he. Disrespect and irritation that someone would interrupt their meeting sends waves of fear from his eyes; but the second his peering finds a dark and pretty girl, the light immediately shuts off.
Patiently and politely, the demon remains quiet as she jokes. A charming smile curls his mouth as he thinks how Ghaul probably wants to devour her. His expression might be creepy if he had not spent his life molding a debonair prince to hide a hideous king’s son.
“Desire, a darling name,” he murmurs and actually means it. A sensation he has never felt in his life churns in his stomach: anxious anticipation. His stomach does a flip and he forces himself to look away from the illusionist. “Not as darling as dear Ghaul, here, though.” Teasing makes him feel better, so tease he will.
Another girls persistent thoughts make an intrusion, forcing Draco to swallow back an exasperated sigh. Hers are insecure and very clearly about Ghaul—both facts that make Clarissa recognizable even before he sees her face.
As the angel curls around Draco’s brother, discomfort blooms in his chest. He casts a curious look over to Desire before straightening out and leveling Clarissa with an amused gaze. “You seem to know him very well, Clarissa. Just how well do you know him? I don’t think Desire here has heard enough.” He punctuates his questioning with a flick of his tail against Desire’s legs. A suggestive grin gleams in his teeth but he keeps himself in check, merely leaning on one back leg and cocking the other out in the galaxy girl’s direction.
draco is thirty flirty and thriving
@[ghaul] @[Desire] @[clarissa]
