Strangers

Despite his keen senses, Sephiran did not notice the woman’s descent into the valley. The lingering scent of sulfur masked her perfume, her footfall softened by the sandy shore of the lake - but his falcon companion - the ever-preceptive bird of prey that watched from the skies - screeched to announce her arrival, pulling Sephiran from his thoughts. His head twisted upon his shoulders, turning to look behind him, amethyst and emerald eyes narrowing at the slender, feminine silhouette approaching the shoreline. Sephiran stiffened, musculature flexing beneath his pelt as he twisted to face her, his ears perking forward as he assessed her with a perversely wandering eye.

He took in every detail of her appearance- the creamy pallet of her coat, her angular, defined features that boasted her femininity. Beneath her pelt was a toned build- a physique attained through countless hours of training, lithe and agile, the embodiment of a proper huntress. His head cocked slightly, chin tipping upward, his eyes settling on the icy, glacial eyes that were set into her slender face. There was a look of interest on her face, and Sephiran wanted to know why.

As they stood face to face, the air between them was crackling with electric tension- a silent battle of wills, Sephiran daring her to break beneath the intensity of his gaze, the dominant aura radiating from him suffocating and oppressive. But the woman did not falter- she spoke his name with confidence, questioning his identity and Sephiran fought back the urge to sneer. “Are you the gift my Father sent me?” Deep baritones split the silence between them, his tone wielding his authority like a weapon, each syllable a command that demanded obedience. If she were the woman Rhazien spoke of - the gift his father bestowed to him in celebration of his rising to power - then Sephiran owned her.

"Speech"