"It takes time, to be sure. Hence, no hatchling has ever been successful when lying to their parents." Vindivir chuckled lightly. Then, the dragon's form began to... blur, for lack of better term. In a few moments, a kindly old man stood before the duo. Swept back, grey hair, and a clean-shaven, weathered face. What he wore would have been considered too much by most, but for Vindivir it was downright scandalous. Slacks, polished shoes, a green tie, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. All in all, it was more in line with the "librarian" image Kara had described him with.
Over that, he wore a black wool vest with a gold chain which held a similarly golden pocket watch. Which Vindivir checked quickly before stowing again. With him, he carried, of all things, a bowl of potato salad.
"Forgive me, I am not the cook my mate was." said the old man in a deep, gravelly voice with a thick, cultured British accent. Some would say that he looked and sounded like Winston from the John Wick franchise, but he would staunchly rebuke such accusations. But unlike Winston, his eyes were a burning orange, with slit pupils, and danced with an inner flame that clearly indicated that he wasn't human.
"Oh my god, she didn't threaten to stab you!" muttered Kara excitedly, mostly to herself, as she began unfolding a blanket. Then, she raised her voice, to be heard by all present.
"Oh, you're so kind Vindivir! You didn't need to do that, especially since you're already letting us use your front yard to have a picnic!" Said Kara, who was trying to avoid giving Sacre "the look" in front of company.
Not the bad look. The good look. The look that said "just you wait until we're behind closed doors again, or at least in a decently-isolated patch of forest."
Over that, he wore a black wool vest with a gold chain which held a similarly golden pocket watch. Which Vindivir checked quickly before stowing again. With him, he carried, of all things, a bowl of potato salad.
"Forgive me, I am not the cook my mate was." said the old man in a deep, gravelly voice with a thick, cultured British accent. Some would say that he looked and sounded like Winston from the John Wick franchise, but he would staunchly rebuke such accusations. But unlike Winston, his eyes were a burning orange, with slit pupils, and danced with an inner flame that clearly indicated that he wasn't human.
"Oh my god, she didn't threaten to stab you!" muttered Kara excitedly, mostly to herself, as she began unfolding a blanket. Then, she raised her voice, to be heard by all present.
"Oh, you're so kind Vindivir! You didn't need to do that, especially since you're already letting us use your front yard to have a picnic!" Said Kara, who was trying to avoid giving Sacre "the look" in front of company.
Not the bad look. The good look. The look that said "just you wait until we're behind closed doors again, or at least in a decently-isolated patch of forest."