[center][h2][i]Lienna Orhhneaht[/i][/h2]
[sub]Bride of Rynek Darion [@NarcissisticPotato][/sub][/center]
Lienna quite enjoyed the miniature spectacle she brought about with her actions. Her appraising looks received confusion and concern(?) in response, leading the Drakken to stoop from his massive height and inspect her further. His intense stare made her insides jump and quiver, and she almost considered aborting her risky mission. However, he soon tore his eyes away, crossing his arms as if he had been dreadfully insulted. Lienna found herself intrigued as to how far she could push this ambitious new suitor. 

Her words had an even greater effect: her droll statement about pleasure and sex left him gaping like a young boy watching his canoe sink. A look crossed his face - again turning Lienna’s gut over and making her legs tremble - as if he were considering something with great deliberation. He looked more confused than anything; Lienna felt her heart swell with pride at having apparently flustered a Drakken. 

Her risky blade trick drew a much different side of her suitor to the surface. She couldn’t describe what emotion she saw there, only that it reminded her of a cornered wolf, sensing its end and growing fiercer. With the same feral grace her suitor gently took her blade away, holding it up for the light refract through its facets, reflecting onto his face like so many stars. For a moment, he was still. 

That didn’t last long. 

Too fast for Lienna to stop him (not that she could have, judging by the unbridled strength in his arms) her suitor pulled her close, turning her own blade under her chin. She could [i]feel[/i] his eyes boring into her, and it made her gut quiver and her head swim. His previous light humour was gone; the man who held her now barely resembled the one who’d spotted her in the first place. 

[i]”Careful now, girl. I like you but insolence will not be tolerated.”[/i]

Lienna drew a shaky breath, willing her vision to steady and her constitution to re-firm. She could feel her heartbeat on the blade, its edge pressing ever closer with each rush of blood. It was a strange rush of adrenaline, an odd exhilaration in the danger that she had chosen to dance with. Bizarrely, she recalled a folk tale that her mother had told her as a child, the tale of a sly fox who tricked the bear into freezing its tail off, turning its hungry greed against it. 

The Drakken drew her ever closer, uttering a warning as the blade slowly, irresistibly slowly, bit into her flesh. At that moment, an odd warming sensation washed over her wound; the blade was melting, her blood tinting the water red against the pale palm of her suitor. 

[i]”It would seem blood is thicker than water…”[/i]

Lienna’s eyes narrowed at the statement, confused as to its relevance. Maybe he was simply concluding a thought; perhaps it meant nothing, another quip of humour from the unpredictable creature. Nonetheless, not knowing his meaning bothered her. 

Soon enough, the Drakken turned on his heel, his flamboyant nature returning to him, and bade her to follow close. Lienna obeyed without question: She was not about to disagree that the room was teeming with unsavoury sorts who would likely try to snatch up every creature with a rear end and a pulse. She kept close at her suitor’s left side, almost running to keep up with his long stride. He moved with unsettling grace, and he again reminded Lienna of the snowy arctic wolves who crept between the mountains and sang her to sleep during those cold, dark nights. Before she could catch herself, she was staring at him, analyzing his walking pattern, the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to part the crowd with his very presence. He carried an air of easy authority, like a force one could feel pressing on their shoulders with little more than a glance. Ah, of course. She was still missing something. 

“My lord,” she cooed, her voice lilting, “Am I doomed to forever refer to you in titles, or do I have the honour of knowing my husband’s name?”