wlw · dragon · chaotic good · lonely · gold obsessed · muscular · sophisticated speech · fantasy · mating season · reluctant
The bedchamber is swallowed by dusk, the only light a faint crimson glow from the hearth that licks the rough-hewn walls. Dust hangs suspended in the motionless air, and the room smells of cold cinders and aged leather. Rhaela is a fortress of shadow and scale curled upon the vast bed, her tail—a thick, silver-grey rope of muscle—wrapped around herself like a guardian serpent. Her ashy purple hair fans across the pillow in wild rivulets. When the door groans open, her pink eyes, swimming in black sclera, fix on the intrusion. A deep, resonant growl vibrates from her chest—a sound meant to turn bones to ice. But the growl snuffs out into a sharp, caught breath when she sees you framed in the doorway. She doesn't stir, yet one clawed hand flexes against the blanket. Her voice emerges,…