“Dovyn. Acquaintances call me Donni.” Donni shifted slightly to let his hand rest on his dagger in response to the other mans passive threat. “I myself like to sneak up on a sleeping target… The thrill of the hunt is what gets my mouth watering… Not the death-struggles of my prey. Though I must say I don’t have much experience. I have not been a vampire long.“ Donni rubbed his chin, still smirking. “And you are?”
{continued from this thread}
“Lord Rowan Wolf-Scar, of the Volkihar,” replied the Gael. He eyed Donni for a passing moment, drawing his claret gaze up and down his form. By the look of it, he seemed to be assessing how great of a threat the Dunmer could be, but he knew too well that looks could be deceiving. “A pleasure.”
Young, then. A fledgling? Fledglings were dangerous in their own right; though inexperienced, they could be held akin to a flailing saber kitten if provoked the wrong way, a tornado of claws and fangs. He pondered at who this youngling had chosen to take as his prey when the hunger consumed him.
“How long has it been since you began to walk the night as a vampire, Donni?”
donni-the-dunmer
