06-13-2016, 03:03 PM
keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part
may nothing but death do us part
They are good to him, the world is good to him and it’s all in the name of Khaos- isn’t that so?
Kirin can want for nothing, save for wanting everything, a never ending unfulfillment. A hunger, a thirst for something more, something better. The lavender stallion takes as much as he can, more than he can at times and when he has it another pit of greed opens to replace the one quelled. It’s a vicious cycle really but he is that of viciousness and malice, Kirin knows little of good and he cares for the notion even less. Who wants to be good anyways?
He can appreciate youth, being youthful himself and while time has technically passed him several years now, Kirin was at a perpetual appearance of the age of five. Five was a good age when he had finally decided on it. His body was young and strong and beautiful, his coat gleamed in the sun, filled out nicely during the cold winter months and he was at optimal performance- in many areas. The girl had proved even more useful than he had ever intended and with that he regarded her his greatest gift, his one last possession from Nicia and perhaps the one thing he loved nearly as much as he loved himself. He kept few so close but rest assured that those that harbored the attention of his inner circle were those most deserving.
Rakshasha and Rusalka,,his ears flattened for a brief moment upon hearing their names, odd things that felt strange against his mind and would only cause his tongue more suffering. His protest is short-lived, midway through an eye roll they are asking him questions and for a moment he can forget their foreign monikers. Your Uncle, indeed.” he assures the two, flicking his tail past his hocks and eyeing them and their bold dispositions. He likes them well enough, unafraid as they are, proud as they seem, perhaps they will do well here just as Misra had. Time would tell. “Ancient?” he asks, biting his lip and looking between the two with mock uncertainty.
Grandmama looks weary yes, and if anyone were ancient it would be she but he would never say such things out loud. He let the girl have her joke, moving his silvered eyes away from the pair and once more to rest on the aging form of his lineage- his blood. “Of course you did and you have, I am pleased.” with that he presses his velvet muzzle ever so gently to the older woman’s jaw, before finding her ear to whisper hushed words. “Three is even better than two I should think,” and he leaves the quiet request at that.
A large smile grows steady on his face when he looks again to his gifts, leaving the topic of discussion for another time. “Ah we know who is the eldest, now, tell me who is the prettiest?” Of course it didn’t matter who the girls decided because either way he would tell them it was himself.
Kirin can want for nothing, save for wanting everything, a never ending unfulfillment. A hunger, a thirst for something more, something better. The lavender stallion takes as much as he can, more than he can at times and when he has it another pit of greed opens to replace the one quelled. It’s a vicious cycle really but he is that of viciousness and malice, Kirin knows little of good and he cares for the notion even less. Who wants to be good anyways?
He can appreciate youth, being youthful himself and while time has technically passed him several years now, Kirin was at a perpetual appearance of the age of five. Five was a good age when he had finally decided on it. His body was young and strong and beautiful, his coat gleamed in the sun, filled out nicely during the cold winter months and he was at optimal performance- in many areas. The girl had proved even more useful than he had ever intended and with that he regarded her his greatest gift, his one last possession from Nicia and perhaps the one thing he loved nearly as much as he loved himself. He kept few so close but rest assured that those that harbored the attention of his inner circle were those most deserving.
Rakshasha and Rusalka,,his ears flattened for a brief moment upon hearing their names, odd things that felt strange against his mind and would only cause his tongue more suffering. His protest is short-lived, midway through an eye roll they are asking him questions and for a moment he can forget their foreign monikers. Your Uncle, indeed.” he assures the two, flicking his tail past his hocks and eyeing them and their bold dispositions. He likes them well enough, unafraid as they are, proud as they seem, perhaps they will do well here just as Misra had. Time would tell. “Ancient?” he asks, biting his lip and looking between the two with mock uncertainty.
Grandmama looks weary yes, and if anyone were ancient it would be she but he would never say such things out loud. He let the girl have her joke, moving his silvered eyes away from the pair and once more to rest on the aging form of his lineage- his blood. “Of course you did and you have, I am pleased.” with that he presses his velvet muzzle ever so gently to the older woman’s jaw, before finding her ear to whisper hushed words. “Three is even better than two I should think,” and he leaves the quiet request at that.
A large smile grows steady on his face when he looks again to his gifts, leaving the topic of discussion for another time. “Ah we know who is the eldest, now, tell me who is the prettiest?” Of course it didn’t matter who the girls decided because either way he would tell them it was himself.
Kirin
son of khaos