11-28-2016, 01:15 AM
Bruise was pleased.
He appreciated when they fought, when they bit back, when they eyes grew steely. It stirred the predator in his belly, that which hungered for the hunt, for the struggle. For a moment, the black fingers clawing out from his mind considered toying with this stallion further, for playing upon the threads of the Fear until he broke into cold sweats, until his knees hit the ground like the green-eyed mare who named him.
It was an appealing idea and he mused over it momentarily before dismissing it.
He had too much to do—too much to accomplish.
At the mention of his mother, his eyes flashed, turned cold and his smile turned sharp. He did not like to think of her, plain and powerful, curled up (he assumed) somewhere on the Mountain where he had left her. One day, she could be his undoing, suppression that she was. She was the only thing that could damper the gift that now flowed through his veins. He would have to end her eventually. Just not now.
“I want a favor, of which the timing and details will be my own choosing.”
Loyalty was hardly earned nowadays, Bruise thought. It was better to buy them now. To carefully place them like grenades so that they were easy to detonate when kingdom come. But, to be honest, the whole process was growing boring and he yawned slightly at the man before nodding. “You shall have what you seek.” He flicked his tail against his haunches as he played upon the threads of the Fear.
It would Nier well to correlate the Fear with the return of the gift.
“Remember what is owed,” he reminded quietly once the deed was done.
Then, with an uncharacteristic wink, “And have fun.”
Bruise
head like a hole; as black as your soul.