OOC here! :: Word Count → 367
Drakien wasn't alone in his corner of the hosting tent for very long, as soon a familiar--and yet different--scent soon reached his nostrils. He lifted his head, trying to pinpoint what it was, exactly, but his thoughts had gone somewhat fuzzy, and he had to turn his focus back to the music before he could think too much on it. When the scent got stronger, and the young coyote from all those nights ago stepped into view, he offered her a lazy smile, strumming a few more notes before he had to pause and sit down.
"It has been," He agreed, and set his lute aside, pulling the shining silver flask out of his back pocket and taking a sip. The feeling of being struck by lightning hit him hard, and he had to shake his head for a moment before he peered curiously at her. He wasn't sure if offering her Moonshine was something he should do, so he simply leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and the flask dangled from his fingers, there for her to take if she wanted it.
"You have changed over that time, no?" He paused, taking in her neatly groomed, if somewhat wind-tossed hair and the beautiful yellow scarf tied around her neck. He himself was wearing only one of the new shirts he'd scavenged from Halifax, a deep burgundy one, and his burlap pants, his colorful bandana resting over his head and tying his hair back and his ears down. "You look very pretty." Except she was somewhat more than pretty; she had that air of confidence about her that spoke of some new knowledge, and he settled back in his chair, tilting his head curiously as he tried to figure it out.
He didn't know, or particularly care, why she smelled and looked so beautiful right then; he'd come across women in heat in the caravan before, but he'd never experienced the effects like this, as he himself was only just entering his prime back then. Now, though; now, the scent was heavenly, and he felt perhaps that he should attempt to do something for her. What, he wasn't quite sure.
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