In the courtyard, they sit near the stone wall, a skirt (or maybe a blanket, or something else?) draped over their knees, all the way to the cracked flagstone floor. White gloves rest on a knee, and then the shoulder of one of the biggest dogs you’ve seen in quite some time. That dog, with a broad chest and huge paws, looks over to you, and then back into space with a slow blink – not quite guarding, but not quite reposed, either.
Upright
It knows you’re there, but doesn’t seem as vigilant as you might expect a creature obviously bred for intimidation. Sitting calmly next to the humanoid, there’s a quiet assurance in the air. Not a threat, and not an arrogance, but holding an acknowledgement of your presence without flaunting the ability to do something about it – almost as if it’s can read your thoughts, and what you’re seeing. And that’s enough.
Reversed
Had the dog been smaller, the impression would still have been there. The posture shone through regardless of size, though the size grabbed your attention in the first place. Then again, the dog won’t meet your eyes. You test it a few times – it keeps looking away, despite size, despite the posture, despite enormous paws and the lines of muscle. And, as you keep looking, and looking closer, those muscles vibrate, like a hand with tremors from holding something heavy for too long.
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