lupei
What the truth is, I can't say anymore
It takes him about five seconds to deduce that Smother is an idiot. He’d never been so close to an idiot before, it kind of throws him off for a moment - as if her stupidity was leaking into the air around her the more she wheezed that air bag of hers (now he understands the saying, “full of hot air”) until he felt himself dumbing down. He stares, and stares, and stares some more, wondering when she’ll finally wind down from this extended, pointless speech. He sees her companion slither uselessly into the water and treads casually back to shore, wondering if he could shut her up by trampling her to death. Maybe he’d be doing the world a favor.
In either case, he’s stopped listening to her halfway through, choosing instead to focus on the silky black feline. Naga is intently watching, fur bristling with almost as much irritation as Lupei is beginning to feel. He’s appreciative of the fact that he’s not the only one who’s tired of Smother's flapping mouth, but then to his disappointment she shifts and tries her best to mother him. He waits a moment, looking between them and deciding once and for all that mares were certainly the lesser of the sexes.
“Both of you shut up.” He snarls, pale green tail swinging behind him as water disperses from its tangled mass. His eyes pinpoint Smother first, narrowing for a moment in mock humor. “Do you ever stop talking or do you just enjoy the sound of your voice so much that you have to torture the rest of us with it?” A single ear flicks in mild irritation and he moves further up the shore, nose lowering to the earth so he can whuff the ground to search out the best spot to roll. He peers back, seeing that Naga has shifted into a rather eye-catching mare.
A smirk winds on his lips. “I’ve got one mother already, Naga, and she’s a useless whore. Don’t call me pup, and I won’t compare you to her.” He likes Naga, at least, she’s more tolerable than the fat snake. He returns to his business, finding that perfect spot and lowering himself to the earth so he can cover himself in dirt. When he’s done, he shakes, feeling especially better about the situation. He turns back to them, head tilting in mild curiosity. “It’s apparent to me that neither of you have come to claim the strange black sabino stallion that I ate on the beach, and so therefore I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He smiles then, a genuine act, and a laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in his gut. “Shifters. All three of us. How unusual.” He peers between them again, wondering if Smother will join them in the equine form. “Where are you from? He asks them, coming closer so the group can remain an intimate trio.
