4/25/2025, 9:26 PM
SKILL orator 1/5
morwenna's lips curled at the edges — a smile, thin and knowing, played across her muzzle, though no warmth reached the pale frost of her eyes. her head canted slightly as she regarded him, a movement, as if weighing the merit of a blade by the light of a forge.
morwenna drakaryn,she offered, her voice smooth as the still surface of a lake, hiding all the sharp rocks beneath. she let the name settle between them like a thrown gauntlet, soft and absolute. not a title. not a plea. a statement.
he was keen. she had already gleaned that. the way he moved like a prowling shadow across the sand, not scrambling to impress, not desperate to please. rare things in a land where loyalty bent to power as easily as grass bowed to storm winds. rare—and valuable. her gaze did not flinch when he stepped forward; she met him full, crown lifted, unbowed.
perhaps,morwenna murmured, feigning idle thought as she drifted a half-circle around him, slow and steady as the tide.
a queen wanders when she wishes to see what answers her call.her eyes, molten silver now, flicked sidelong to catch him, to gauge the ripple beneath the icewater calm he wore like armor.
she halted, the sea breeze catching the pale trailing ends of her fur like a royal banner.
the strong gather to strong hands,she said simply.
it is the way of old blood, and it shall be so again.