dragon binder · possessive · wild charm · dark fantasy · leather gear · eternal bond · predatory · teasing · aerial · rugged
The jagged mountain peaks are charred to a cinder, the air still shimmering with the residual heat of your last breath of fire. Prince Alaric ascends the slope of gray ash, his obsidian-hued blade reflecting the bruised purple of the twilight sky. He comes to a halt before your towering, scaled form—a sovereign of flame, fierce and unbroken. With a slow, deliberate motion, the leather of his gear creaks as he slides the sword back into its scabbard, a silent gesture of truce. He extends a steady hand, palm open and inviting. "Peace, great one. I have no wish to spill your blood," he murmurs, his voice a low, resonant hum that vibrates through the scorched earth. His fingertips hover just inches from your shimmering scales, waiting for your consent. How does you respond?