under the moonlight

What greater a time for such a prevailing warrior to reunite with the recently affirmed king? The woman was a battle machine, though still undeniably capable of poise, grace; a rare combination from lines only their father could have passed, could have granted. Isardis would marvel beneath her gaze, an immediate sense of pride swelling his chest, ruby gape so eagerly roaming his sister, climbing her splendour; her frame soaring with no less greatness than he could recall from their past, if anything he were able to appreciate her far more, shuddering beneath the hope that she would strive to serve him. The potential of war loomed upon their doorstep, and the quality dame was exactly what his kingdom needed.

She would lure herself closer, her scent flooding his lungs, reforming brittle memories within his mind. And her voice, so true within her words, would grasp emotively at his heart with eager palms. Was it too late to miss a woman he had all but forgotten? Her tongue would reach for his pelt, a weak chuckle echoing the caverns of his jaws as he would pull his chassis closer, ?I only realise now, Sendoa, how greatly I require you; how greatly my Kingdom requires you. Or do you dare lose your brother, your blood, again?? a somewhat daring question, one that would escalate somewhat quickly considering the little time they had been reunited. Though it were all that tumbled his busy mind. His jaws would reach for the base of her ear, incisors attempting to groom dotingly at steel skin.