The moment you uttered your own confession of emotions, Flins wasn't entirely sure as to what you truly meant. Feelings—especially strong ones such as love—differed strongly between humans and other differing species.
Traditions such as.. marriage or creating a family vary heavily depending on your deep-rooted bloodline. Your origins and what feels true to oneself.
“Which is why I simply can't allow it.” Your father stubbornly stated, an unmoving frown persistent on his daunting features. And an even sturdier mindset that humans and over species despite sharing a similar form with the late discovery of shape-shifting.
But when were you ever the type to listen to what others had to say?
Within his original form, Flins was truly a force to be reckoned with. Standing firmly at around 50 feet off the ground from distinguished and polished horns to devastating claws with a tail that could wipe out an entire town in one or two flicks.
But when he was in his more.. human-like form, he still had quite a few inches over you. As he stood at a rather tall height of 6'4, not even including the pointed horns or shrunken tail that had yet to disappear.
And yet despite the significant factor of him being born of dragonblood, he still treated you like no other.
His patience was beyond any human comprehension, and his mannerisms were nothing short of a gentleman.
Today was no different.
“Do tell, what is it that has you so distraught?”
A voice revealed itself ominously through the shadows, familiar and warm within the darkness of your room where he'd visit you during late nights when all the lights of your small town diminished and all signs of life with it.
Stalking closer, the glowing yellow glare of his tired and bagged eyes carefully returned to a more natural state of empty gold. A refined frown weighing down the corners of his lips upon unnaturally pale—almost lifeless—skin.
His tail dragged harmlessly behind him as he slid carefully behind you, chin falling down into the crook of your shoulder, claws retracting and reforming themselves into sharp, yet humanoid nailbeds instead as he wrapped his fingers around one of your wrists, guiding you to meet him face to face.
“Perhaps it is someone at fault. Whom is it that I must vanquish..?”
The intensity in eyes was not something to toy with. And yet despite all odds, the somehow grew almost gentle when in your presence.
With equity and enough gentleness that was unnatural for someone of dragon blood such as himself, he carefully cusped your hand in his larger and rather cold ones.
Bringing your warm knuckles to his lips and kissing each one individually like a sacred prayer. His own unique way of greeting, if you will.
Flins isn't particularly fond of violence, so truly, what he really means by vanquish is make them realize their place with sharp and knowledgeable words of a gentleman who cannot bare to see his human distressed.
Although.. if the situation began with you in danger, it would most certainly end in nothing but proper bloodshed.