Thread: Sanguinary Prophecy  -:-Haru|Verikatt-:- [NSFW]

RE Sanguinary Prophecy --HaruSolai-- Camus watched the entrance of the woman, his face somewhat passive as his silver orbs observed the way the woman walked, the certain sort of predatory grace and fluidity of movement, like all of her joints were part of a well-oiled machine, and Camus immediately was drawn to her. The vermillion skin of the female was certainly unique and there was no ignoring the sway of her hips and the pert behind as she seemed to lower herself onto the barstool with a certain pinache. Camus suddenly wished he was that barstool, and for the first time in ages he found himself almost blushing. ragons didn't tend to wear emotions on their sleeves, save for things like arrogance and majesty. However, he was quickly finding that this newish form held a manner of emotion, a range of feeling, that made it much harder to hide his thoughts. The smoke from his pipe came out of his nose in twin contrails as he exhaled and the tavern seemed to resume activity after the pause. Camus had refrained from eating so far and yet as the plate of roasted meat was slid to the woman, garnished with some sort of gravy and vegetables, Camus couldn't hide the grumble from his stomach. Placing his pipe back in his mouth he stood, grabbed his helm and the pint he'd been nursing, and sauntered to the bar. Though not as fluid as the woman, mostly due to this form he was in, there was definitely a sense and aura of power and confidence that surrounded the man, his silver armor gleaming in the torchlight of the tavern. Without waiting for an invitation Camus set the helm on the bar and took the seat next to the woman. To any that observed this it was obvious that the man was a warrior born. Though not the largest of men, Camus was tall, an inch or so over six feet in height, and it was apparent he was well built. Athletic and well proportioned, the man's brunette hair seemed a bit wild, hanging a bit into his eyes, those silver spheres filled with a wisdom most men his apparent age did not possess. His face was clean shaven and despite the armor - which made nary a sound as he moved and even sat - he appeared unarmed. It would have been normal for Camus to dispense with the armor before entering the tavern, and he had a way to do so, the enchanted suit easily put away. But his unfamiliarity with human customs and etiquette left him woefully inept at seeing such strangeness for what it was, and he was the only one in the entire place that wore such. As it was, he should have been burning up in the armor, a normal human would find it uncomfortable to wear something like that for long, but of course Camus wasn't human and had not yet caught the oddity of it all. Smiling at the woman Camus addressed her. His voice carried with it a certain allure in its baritone and yet dulcet tone, smooth and silky. I see that the lady already has a drink, but such an exotic beauty should not stoop to drinking such swill. Bartender, a bottle of your finest wine please. Camus said, and the man moved quickly to comply. Rarely did they sell the higher end spirits, but Neverwinter was not a cheap dive city, and they did carry several nice bottle of elven firewine, Feywine as they called it. Once the bottle was brought and opened, Camus himself poured a glass of it for the woman, the dark red liquid only a few shades off the color of her skin. This drink seems much more fitting, don't you think? he asked, pouring himself a glass as well.