Desreal: K we be friends; LYCORIS

As soon as he sees her clearly beyond the edges of the forest, his muscles tense, propel himself forward a fraction of an inch reflexively – there is a dragonic, fearsome portion of his mind which has been brought to life with his Nachtmere, driving him to attack and rend and destroy, but he catches himself instantly with the rational and eternal part of his mind which alone has existed in calculating detachment for millennia.

His unusually long, armor-plated forelegs are close together and even, and he draws his long neck into a coil and watches her with a kind of thoughtful interest, head inclined to one side beneath a cascade of slick black forelock that spills several inches beneath his jaw.

“You’ve not been here long, have you?” he inquires – this he gathers from a number of factors. She does not bear the typical demeanor of a Wolf, Viper, or Jaeger, (they all have their own mannerisms, unique though they claim to be – Kurai, for all of his isolation, is quick to recognize this). She has not yet been told to avoid the chasms of formidable Desreal, in all of its forbidding heavy silence. And she is curious. Curiosity is something that is always killed by familiarity. “Which member of our Legend’s futile trifecta has claimed your loyalties?”

A note resonating somewhere between mockery and acidity – there is scorn there, blatant derision at the foolish naivety of the mortal.

But then again, we haven’t all lived to watch hundreds of civilizations rise and fall, unchanging, in the same way.

He fixes pale eyes of sharp interest upon the stranger-mare. “Or have you not sold yourself yet?”

Are you a Wolf, Lycoris, or a wanderer?