06-30-2020, 09:22 PM
give my all just to watch you fall
The mare starts to turn just after the snap of the shell punctuates Titanya’s otherwise passive, would-be passage. She is increasingly disenchanted with the idea of having to socialize when it becomes obvious that she will be forced to. It also becomes clear that she has well and truly surprised this stranger with her untimely arrival. She’s not sure if it is customary for Ischian’s to draw out their “hellos” or if this lady simply is shocked into incoherence (though, to be fair, she’s certainly drawn enough ire in her day to warrant a similar reaction).
Her growl lingers a moment longer, though it is so low, perhaps, that the rain completely drowns it out.
The other woman clarifies the second time with a far more traditional hello, but Titanya can’t help herself. “Um, hal-oh yourself?” She watches the mare with her inscrutable feline gaze, searching for any sign of fear or discomfort at being so near a predator. Finding none, she is nonplussed. Usually, she can at least count on a whiff of terror scenting the air that she can use to her advantage, if the need arises. But this one gives her no such indication of uncertainty. Of course, theirs is a strange world and growing stranger by the day. The tigress spares a longer look at the mare’s fins as if to confirm this fact for herself. Strange indeed.
I don’t mind the rain, is what she should say. Instead, “I don’t make a habit of waltzing into caves with strangers. Unless I’m utterly famished that is.” She lifts one corner of her lips in a half smirk, revealing a single gleaming fang. “Then it is rather a treat.” She assumes it’s a cave of some sort, anyway. There surely isn’t a tree big or canopy dense enough to keep their asses from hanging out in this weather, even if their skulls stay dry.
She rolls her shoulders and takes a step towards the waterborne-mare, but the motion is one of languid ease instead of the low and sharp staccato of the hunt. The rain continues to pummel the both of them as it falls, the fast rate of it splattering mud up the tiger’s legs and belly. She pays it no mind, however, as she moves closer to the waterfall and the woman framed by it.
“Titanya,” she says by way of introduction, just feet away. As the last syllable of her name fades away, so, too, does the feline skin she wears. She rises and continues rising over the other one, finally looking down to meet her blue-violet gaze with her own amber eyes. In this form, she is as formidable – if not more so – than as a tiger. But she doesn’t think she has to worry about this stranger and any secrets she might have of her own. She rather wishes she did. She’s been scratching at the itch for a fight since the day she was born.
Her growl lingers a moment longer, though it is so low, perhaps, that the rain completely drowns it out.
The other woman clarifies the second time with a far more traditional hello, but Titanya can’t help herself. “Um, hal-oh yourself?” She watches the mare with her inscrutable feline gaze, searching for any sign of fear or discomfort at being so near a predator. Finding none, she is nonplussed. Usually, she can at least count on a whiff of terror scenting the air that she can use to her advantage, if the need arises. But this one gives her no such indication of uncertainty. Of course, theirs is a strange world and growing stranger by the day. The tigress spares a longer look at the mare’s fins as if to confirm this fact for herself. Strange indeed.
I don’t mind the rain, is what she should say. Instead, “I don’t make a habit of waltzing into caves with strangers. Unless I’m utterly famished that is.” She lifts one corner of her lips in a half smirk, revealing a single gleaming fang. “Then it is rather a treat.” She assumes it’s a cave of some sort, anyway. There surely isn’t a tree big or canopy dense enough to keep their asses from hanging out in this weather, even if their skulls stay dry.
She rolls her shoulders and takes a step towards the waterborne-mare, but the motion is one of languid ease instead of the low and sharp staccato of the hunt. The rain continues to pummel the both of them as it falls, the fast rate of it splattering mud up the tiger’s legs and belly. She pays it no mind, however, as she moves closer to the waterfall and the woman framed by it.
“Titanya,” she says by way of introduction, just feet away. As the last syllable of her name fades away, so, too, does the feline skin she wears. She rises and continues rising over the other one, finally looking down to meet her blue-violet gaze with her own amber eyes. In this form, she is as formidable – if not more so – than as a tiger. But she doesn’t think she has to worry about this stranger and any secrets she might have of her own. She rather wishes she did. She’s been scratching at the itch for a fight since the day she was born.
Titanya
@[Aquaria]