Remaining in an easy sitting position, Leera watches him as he tells her his tale, tongue sliding across her teeth. Just by the way he speaks, by the way he holds himself, she can tell this wolf is of importance. But her attention isn't snagged until he mentions a people, his people. His. People. Pink eyes flash with something dark and desirous; finally, someone worth meeting. Someone who isn't completely useless. Someone with power.
"Erövrare," she repeats, tail curling with feline fluidity. "Yes, I've heard of it." And she has, from that Hannibal she'd met along the coastline that starry night.
He gives her his name now, Tyranis, and Leera dips her chin slightly. She's drawn to his aura of strength, lustful for his high lord title, so much so perhaps that she begins to feel the warmth in her cheeks -- but she does little to show this. Instead, she keeps herself still, contemplative as she watches him. "I'm sorry about your father," she offers easily, but there's hardly any grief that passes her expression. "But better him than you, yes? Look at what you have now. A land, people who crown you... you have everything."
speech action
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
