His spots are the joy of the leopard (Heartfire, Ephrelle)

[Wyrm]

AND ABANDON, THAT GREETS YOU IN THE NIGHT WITH SNAKE EYES, THE MOST PRECIOUS KIND.

The absence of her would make no difference. They were toying with each other now, playing a metaphorical game of dare because neither of them wants to back down. Her stability against his onslaught of petty attacks impresses him, causes him to turn fully around so that he can stare at her once more. The wheels are turning, clicking into place and when the picture is complete she places a single hoof back down into the earth and a tingling sensation curls at the recesses of his gut. That cold eye of hers is sharper than he had originally anticipated. She speaks, and with every word that falls from her lips Wyrm can feel a terrible grin spread across his face.

“Only on the the condition that I know what it is before we go.” He amends, knowing better than to walk blindly into a set trap. She shouldn’t worry, there wasn’t much Wyrm wouldn’t do for a casual friend in need. As of right now, the speckled filly is the closest thing he’s ever had to a friend and besides, he likes the way she acts like she doesn’t care. It amuses him. His pale head tilts, eyes bleaching of all pigment until they’re a soft breath of pink and then he chuckles, lightly.

“Name your price.” He offers, patiently waiting to see if her request will weigh against the secrets of the long dead creatures. For her sake, he hopes they add up.