
It was deliberate. It was showy. He loomed over her like a shadow, hungry and dark and enveloping, and she the sweet golden center of his burning attention.
Fenrir was many things. Bold, cocky, arrogant - but a little self-important? An understatement of vast proportions.
He liked the way she stayed precisely where he wanted her. She seemed unruffled by his close proximity, her expression unwavering and open, posture easy even as his hot breath passed by her ear. But then she lifted a delicate paw to push him back, and Fenrir frowned.
Perhaps this one required a different approach.
He riffled through the folders of his mind. Gallant, jovial? Suave and smarmy clearly wasn't the play; perhaps she preferred shy and meek?
His lip wrinkled.
Fenrir didn't do that persona well.
Some exploring,he echoed back with a smirk.
And what's your impression so far? The forest treating you well? You don't look as if you've been here very long, little nymph.
He leaned in.
Best be careful. You only just missed the near-end of the world last month; trust me, I was there.
(That much was accurate - the precise magnitude of his role in its reversal, however, may have been slightly exaggerated.)
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