10/18/2026, 1:07 PM
no worries whatsoever, apologies for mine! <33
It is strange.
A chord strums, and swiftly does her prowl transition to a look of one defeated.
Ah. Good company. Batu circles outwards, granting space where the moon shines iridescent in her cool furs. “We are mongolians,” he answers, as though it is all she needs to know. The fermented milk is gestured for. “Drink, if it pleases.”
Bloodied meat is an offering of her own peace. It does not compel half as much as the woman’s silhouette under moonlight.
“Never met a tigress who can stand the smell of wolf,” Batu’s top lip curls before flattening outright. “What happened to your son?”
mongolian | other
