If the girl wanted a mindfuckery of a roller coaster, she could come and nestle in Shaytan’s mind, and the spotted mare might be none the wiser for it. She is often like a feral thing, though perhaps a touch more civilized than her father, whoever that might be. She has thirst and Straia and tree running rampant in her big ‘ol head, and often not much else. It’s an odd sort of life: completely satisfying, occasionally useless.
And yet, no one can fault her for her loyalty; it is her most attractive quality. It is her only attractive quality.
Shaytan listens, her head tilting to one side as she sifts through the meaning. She’s never known any power except invisibility, and that she has to concentrate on. That has nothing to do with feeling, only will power. There is no subtlely to it. She grins back at the bone-wolf-horse, revealing stained teeth and an off-putting expression that is too wide and unnatural. It matches her too-bright eyes, as if the flames of the tree had somehow found a new home in her head. Her attention goes back to the stranger, and she still smiles, never thinking that she should drop the painful expression.
“Yes,” she says with delight. “I was thirsty. Very thirsty.” She says nothing about eating, for Shaytan is not a meat-eater. Her teeth are blunt, and the feeling of flesh stuck between them was enough to drive her mad. It’s a waste, really, to kill all those bunnies and then leave them there for the scavengers. Oh well. It had been a long time since Shaytan hunted. Enough for several generations of rabbits to pass, and think themselves safe again. She’d been busy with her precious tree. But the Chamber didn’t have enough rabbits, and those it did have, didn’t come near the magical flames.
She eyes the bone-beast again. “Does that hunt for you?” She is young, after all. She might not know how to do the killing.
shaytan
when people run in circles, it's a very, very mad world