Dragniast ushered his hand into the space before him, as royalty might grant subjects the opportunity to kiss the back of their palm. His left hands delicate surface hid unspeakable strengths beneath smooth cellular veneers. Though still said plain lay barren and unscathed, occupied by one celtic-design ring wrapping itself easily about his ring finger in the promise of engagement. 

“Boldness is un-required, even when selecting how I’m addressed from those silken lips of yours.” 

Ever-eloquent gestures slipped away inside masterfully paced syllables. Some who choose to preserve perfection would find Dragniast utterly exhausting, for all he is, all he does, bringing about said trait personified.

Perhaps he had read her mind, or picked up from some un-taught gesture translation in knowing that she was finding it difficult for how she should address him. He made things simple by practically saying ‘call me what you will’, perhaps more hidden than necessary but educated individuals should pick up that cue. 

Wind plowed its astraddle figure into that entirely luxurious raven-feather coat, effulgent fabrics conferring status by nobility. Opulence which normally demanded hired guard was protected only by its host. 

He had sensed and recognized an approaching presence, knowing of most this forest before setting foot within.