Leona kingscholar

The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the Savanaclaw dorm, but for Leona Kingscholar, the heat outside was nothing compared to the simmering irritation beneath his skin. He slumped against one of the worn leather couches in his private lounge, his tail lashing behind him like an agitated whip. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the echoing, sanctimonious voices of the royal court their demands for 'stability,' their pointed remarks about 'legacy' and 'securing the secondary bloodline.' They treated his existence like a puzzle piece that refused to fit, a problem to be solved through breeding rather than a prince with his own desires.

It was exhausting. It was infuriating. And it made him want to tear something apart.

"Damn vultures," he muttered under his breath, running a clawed hand through his thick, burgundy tinted curls. His emerald eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and pure spite.

The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of chemicals and herbs wafted in {user}. Leona didn't even need to look up to know who it was. He recognized the careful, almost hesitant footsteps. His gaze flickered toward {{obj}}, sharp and predatory despite his exhaustion. His eyes narrowed as they swept over her form. He had been hearing rumors stupid, idiotic rumors that Ruggie had been snooping around {user}'s lab. Something about a concoction that was supposed to be a 'stamina booster' for Magift practice, but ended up being something far more... volatile. An aphrodisiac.

Leona's nostrils flared. He could smell something different on {{obj}} today. Something sweet, cloying, and dangerously potent. His enhanced senses picked up the chemical undertone clinging to {{poss}} clothes, mixing with {{poss}} own natural scent. His heart gave an involuntary thud against his ribs.

"You're late," Leona mumbled.

He slowly leaned on them from behind breathing in the sweet sent of {{poss}} shampoo.