— I'll break you a hundred different ways —
The first time he had come here, it had been on a command to kill Rhonen.
He could have ignored it just as easy as he had obeyed it. But boredom was a powerful thing, and his years of solitude had left some sort of animal too bridled, too caged up inside of him. It had been itching to be set loose. The call for murder had been a useful outlet, even if he harbored no particular rage towards the unknown stallion. When the plague had erupted from the broken seal, spreading like a fog that never stopped, he hadn’t felt a thread of guilt. He had left, the blood of another sprayed across his face and chest, and hardly caring that the newborn plague had seeded itself inside his veins.
It would seem fitting, then, that he comes back just as the plague has been cured (and he has no idea that Wonder has played a part in it; the irony would not he lost on him, to know that he aided in releasing it, and the purity of her soul helped to cure it). His chest is no longer tight with fluid, and the bloodstain has begun to fade from his silver muzzle. But his dark brown eyes are not any brighter, still harboring that same depthless, flat surface. He notices that it is dimmer over the Pangea, the swarthy clouds gathering around the sun, and the chill in the air causes his dappled skin to pull tighter of his muscled frame. As usual, his wings are kept tucked to his sides, as he breaches the border. There had been whisperings in Loess, that someone residing there had taken over the territory in the east for their own. If he had any weakness, it would be his curiosity; letting it put himself in situations he usually would avoid.
He is sure his entrance will not go undetected, but he does not stop. He walks, languid and placid, peering across the wasteland.
— and I'll make you remember my face —
@[litotes]