Post by Tahira on Apr 26, 2020 3:19:39 GMT
she seeks out beauty in the way of kindred spirits, keen eyes always roving, always seeking. a woman of confidence, unstoppable, a nomadic force of nature that wanders where she wills. the sharp wings of her eyes only accentuate cold, piercing teal and the way tahira skims over anything that does not spark joy. she has her comforts, and like a dragon this means surrounding herself with that which she considers pretty, making herself comfortable in the most arctic reaches, scraping pale talons across glittering minerals reflected by snow. her kind are familiar with dangerous territory, made for it, and the jaguar is entirely absent of fear as she picks her way through the volcano's graveyard.
glimmering obsidian is nothing unusual, patches frequent in her travels across the spine and yet none the less glamorous for it, attracting tahira's attention for hours at a time, sprawling in the cool snow with her head upon her paws to watch the changes beneath the steadily climbing sun. at times like this, the al-zahrani softens, a seemingly impossible feat for any who might know the frosty woman and her superiority complex. but a faint gleam of red in the dying light of the day caught the jaguar's eye, forcing tahira to her paws with an uncustomary haste. true gemstones were so very rarely found breaking the surface, even from volcanoes such as this, and she coveted them in a way that translated to little else.
glimmering obsidian is nothing unusual, patches frequent in her travels across the spine and yet none the less glamorous for it, attracting tahira's attention for hours at a time, sprawling in the cool snow with her head upon her paws to watch the changes beneath the steadily climbing sun. at times like this, the al-zahrani softens, a seemingly impossible feat for any who might know the frosty woman and her superiority complex. but a faint gleam of red in the dying light of the day caught the jaguar's eye, forcing tahira to her paws with an uncustomary haste. true gemstones were so very rarely found breaking the surface, even from volcanoes such as this, and she coveted them in a way that translated to little else.
There always seemed to be a different trail when he passed through the mountains. This one had drawn him up higher than he had ever been before, along the ridges and up into where he was sure the clouds would touch his head. To Devonte's disappointment, they remained as high as ever in the blue-peeking sky above him, but at least the view was great. With the dipping sun, Devonte's pace had slowed, not wanting to put a paw out of place and slide down a slope to certain injury (or worse, though he refused to even consider that). But it let him drink in the glittering rocks and the polished paths through lizard-spine slopes and ageless rockslides.