He quells under Phasus’s icy gaze, but the fire still churns white-hot in his gut.
She calls him Oxy, something those closest to him had never dared, but somehow, he gets it. The nickname is a gesture of familiarity, something to cement that fact that the three of them are in this together and not just strangers driven together by the fact that they have the same goals. The others won’t realize this, of course; they had just intruded upon a small group staking their claims. For all the others know, they have been companions since birth.
Heartfire’s indirect challenge forces his dark gaze to land on her, but instead of responding he only narrows his eyes. Phasus has made herself into the ringleader—he will not speak now unless he absolutely must. He knows that Phasus is on his side, that she agrees with him; that is all he needs to be assured of. The first boy, the scaled one, tell him to make good on his threat and Oxytocin does just that—anything edible within the circle of horses begins to crumble as he catches Leilan’s gaze, expression unmoving. It is not a bluff; being immortal, the black stallion requires no sustenance to live on.
If Bruise’s Fear tries to trickle its way down Oxytocin’s back, he doesn’t notice.
There is nothing left for him to fear. They’re all dead anyways and he has never feared death.
A girl joins them next, and the man cannot help but to curl his lip in disgust as he takes in her bloody nose and feverish appearance despite the cold. No, he doesn’t fear them or the plague—they are simply impure and the impurity of their flesh disgusts him. Does that make him a monster? Fine. He can live with that diagnosis.
Suddenly there is another in their midst and she laughs as she interrupts Leilan, trying to bait him into anger. He smirks at her words as she challenges the others that have gathered; she is right. They have no claim to this land just because they were neighbors on the rocky shore and were here first, or second, or last. In a world where disease runs rampant, only the strong are going to survive—and you can’t be strong if you are knocked down by a plague. If they want a safe haven for the ill, they can go back to a land where the plague runs rampant already, or they can fuck off to hell for all he cares.
He hardly notices the stallion that comes to collect the plague-ridden mare and foal, but it is impossible to not notice the threatening chuckle that comes from a newcomer, standing between Phasus and Rey. Oh, how the resistance grows. He does not know this newcomer—he doesn’t think that any of them do—but there is a darkness in him, a darkness that Oxytocin is glad to have on their side and he grins without humor as the conversation starts back up again.
He listens as Phasus weaves her web, a convincing narrative that they will find hard to deny. What if the fairies fail? What if the plague beleaguers even the supposedly safe lands? Gods know the fairies have failed in their promises and protection before. She is spinning a story in their minds that will lay the first seeds of doubt.
Yet another wings their way onto the Isle, dropping to the snow next to the roan dragon-child. “You’re right,” he says in agreeance to the winged magician, finally finding his voice again. He looks to Phasus, but he has nothing inflammatory to add this time, so hopefully she will be content. He is not angry with her for using him as her scapegoat—it was clever, he has to admit, and cleverness was never his strong suit. Just brutal force. “We would be idiots to share our island with a group of hostiles.”
He turns his dark gaze back to the group assembled before them. They may think themselves the stronger here, but to Oxytocin it seems fairly evenly matched if it does come down to a battle. Luck might even reign on their side if the ill ones leave. “We came only to make a safe haven for the healthy and it was your friends who brought the hostility. We only want to be safe here, without the plague.” He speaks of the fairies and what they promised, and Oxytocin barks out a laugh, white tail flicking over his haunches.
“And you trust the fairies’ word? Against a plague brought upon us by a god? You truly are a fool, my boy.”
OXYTOCIN
I don't have my head on straight