I was looking for a breath of life
another taste of divine rush
His voice is on edge - it reminds her of the nightmare so she pins her ears back for a hot second, and shakes her head to dislodge the thoughts. Shay’s found it’s better not to dwell on it. Push it away, like it never happened; as if she never saw Straia skinned alive, and she was never ever ever ever ever changed into a little white rabbit. The stallion has desperation and mania on his breath and in his eyes. She should be frightened. She dislikes the closeness, but the rest of the red flags aren’t popping up the way they normally do. Pffffft. What is normal anyway?
But attention is attention, and given that no one else has any for her, she’ll settle for this weirdo (ha! the pot is calling the kettle black), who is oh-so-invested in her odd little tendencies. Her hobby? Yes, let’s call it her hobby. Her only hobby.
Shaytan snorts, because the answer is so very obvious. “Because I have to.” The spotted mare hadn’t been born with the inclination, but she must have some sort of obsessive personality, because there are a few things that have grown on her to the point where she can’t even think of living without them. She licks her lips, catching the tang of dried specks on her whiskers. “And I like the sound they make.” She chuckles deviously, a deranged sound in the back of her throat. If Makai couldn’t tell before, there is definitely something a little off with this one… a little off, indeed.
In a fit of inspiration (what idiot is not the occasional genius?) she presses back. Not in a sexual manner, obviously, but in a… see, i can play this game too, kind of way. “Want to see something cool, Makai? I’ve got a tree on fire, but doesn’t burn.” I mean it’s not her tree, it’s the Chamber’s. Which means that it is also hers. But not just hers.
Eh. Semantics.
Shaytan
so many lives
so many pairs of eyes