the path of paths

Nagendra watched, his expression still one of frost-nipped awe, as her pale purple eyes found him. Her ears sank back modestly as she responded, her voice so sweet and so fitting of such a delicate appearance. A small, puckish grin flickered across the man’s slender features at her reply, amused. She had granted him only a few words, leaving him needing more the way that a man dying of thirst needed more than a dew drop. ”The words can only come when the perfect muse arrives,” he smiled, his voice the embodiment of grace. ”My name is Nagendra Bahri, Miss,” he bowed slightly with his introduction. ”May I have the pleasure of yours?” he’d ask.

Nagendra's gentle green stare continued to hover about her face curiously, reading. Was she… afraid of him? She looked a bit wary. He never liked anyone being afraid of him; it made it very uncomfortable to make advances on someone. Although he supposed it was anyone's right to be cautious, alone in the forest like this. As pretty and serene as the place was, it said nothing for whatever dangers might lurk within.