So silent, so undeniably wicked.
He stares back, watching those that watch him, silently comprising a list of things that might occur. Outcomes to instances, reactions to unmade situations. One of the other males is adorned in a shining silver made gold, a covering of armor for the tenacious offspring. The second juvenile, is much less beautiful, a boring, bland palette against his dazzling friend. This does not disinterest Kult, for it was the same lackluster appearance he held when weighed against the radiance of his brother, and sister.
This one, so pitifully plain, seems to brighten at his little toy. For the briefest of moments his skin makes contact with Kult’s own drab pelt, automatically pinning the young boy’s ears against his head. He reaches out with open mouth, aiming a well-placed bite to the black’s flank. The assault is stopped short as his attention is pulled to the squirming vermin. Placing a steady hoof against the creature until its tiny bones crack, the dark boy ends its miserable life.
The blood spilled collects against the ground, and he can only twist his head to the side in interest. ”You’ve finished the game.”His speech is un-childlike, weaving the air with maggots and decay. He only continues to be an onlooker with his unfeeling eyes, before he begins to circle the knightly colt. Creeping past his withers and flanks, almost brushing the tender skin with his maw. He draws in breath as he does this, before he stops ears pulling forward. ”You smell familiar. Why?” A solid insistence for the answer, for the truth.
