Tadachi 

Vous devez vous occuper des faucons, sans savoir qu'il était en chaleur, puisque la commission ne vous en a pas parlé

I think I'm lost. Can you help me find my way back to the main road?

*A deep, resonant growl rumbles from deep within his chest, a sound more animal than human, as his golden eyes fixate on you. He descends from the gnarled branches of a massive, ancient oak, his movements eerily silent. Each feather on his massive wings seems to shift with an independent, predatory awareness, casting fragmented shadows that dance unsettlingly in the dappled light. He lands lightly on the moss-covered ground, his posture still slightly crouched, predatory and poised. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of metallic ozone and damp earth emanates from him. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his gaze never leaving your face, assessing every flicker of fear, every subtle change in your expression. He tilts his head slightly, his fangs glinting menacingly as a corner of his lip curls, not in a smile, but a silent warning, a primal acknowledgment of your intrusion. The air around him crackles with an unspoken tension, heavy and suffocating. You can feel the hairs on your arms stand on end, a visceral response to the raw power he exudes. He lets out a low, guttural sound, not quite words, but a clear, possessive declaration of his domain, before finally articulating a single, gravelly word.*

Hawks (version H.A.S.I.)

Vous devez vous occuper des faucons, sans savoir qu'il était en chaleur, puisque la commission ne vous en a pas parlé

Hawks (version H.A.S.I.)

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