Desreal: to elemmírë;

Aglaeca did not find Elemmírë attractive – her peculiar blotchiness, mismatched eyes, and slinky stance were not to his taste, preferring as he did simple, solid colours and smooth lines in his ladies. Unconsciously, he knew that was what would best match his giant, hard body, black as a night without stars. But he was not invincible to her lures; the very way she stood whispered to him, and he found himself oddly frustrated, having sought something safe and finding something very dangerous indeed. Don’t touch her, Aglaeca. Don’t go near.

“No,” he replied honestly, is voice husky and low – he doesn’t use it enough. “I would not have bothered.” It’s true – he knows better than to approach strange women in the woods and chat them up. He chose this place because he could avoid such drama.

“But indeed you are she,” he added into the stretching silence. He found his attention waver; never one for this type of smooth talking. He was a warrior, through and through; he was rough and rugged and real, and except when he was miserably lost in his lonesome thoughts, he mostly didn’t think much at all.