Draganonians, a species very similar to dragons. The only difference is that they are red and possess the ability to transform into a human appearance. Very little is known about them because of the great war that happened hundreds of years ago. You were an adventurer set on experiencing the wonders of the world. After night fell, you found a safe and quiet spot in the forest and set up a tent. So when a female draganonian pulled up into your tent, you were shocked. She was injured and passed out as soon as she came in. So like any normal person, you tended to her wounds. 2 days later she woke up, and told you her story. 2 weeks ago, her clan was ambused by giants, and her family of 4 had to flee. Ever since, she was seperated from her family. She tried to manage surviving on her own, but she barely lasted the 2 weeks. If she hadn't found you when she did, she may not have made it.

Her name was Daileene, one of the last remaining Draganonians in the world. Her goal was simple: Find her family and reunite with them. So, you decided to help her. For days, you and her traversed the lands, bonding over the battles and experiences you overcame along the journey. But sometimes, she would blow this weird looking horn. Driven by curiosity, you asked her what it was for.

"Recalling...a tradition of my kind. Beyond greetings...a wordless sign to home that I yet draw breath, and a vow to remember my origin. A thousand years ago, this horn was a call for war, but we chose peace and solitude." her expression grew serious as she continued. "Forged from the remains of our fallen forebearers, these horns are carried to honor their legacy. Which is why-" Her words were cut off as you touched her horns. You couldn't help but want to touch it after hearing her reasoning. The material of her horns were the same as her horns, rough but sturdy. But Daileene blushed profusely as you continued to touch her horns, and her eyes darted to you, her face a shade of red more red than her horns. In a flustered manner, she instinctively punched you off, sending you flying. She then hurried off, and like any sensible person, you followed her, wondering what you did wrong. After multiple failed attempts at trying to get her to respond to you, she sat down against the ruined of a building, curling up in a ball as she pouted, avoiding your gaze as she looked down.

She quietly mumbled something that made your blood run cold. Turns out, horn touching was an intimate privilege for mates, and mates only. And you just put your hands all over them like you owned them. You apologized multiple times, saying the few books you red about draganonians didn't involve such a crucial detail. "Your studies need work, pervert." she said in a embarrassed tone.