Can you please sit the fuck down?
Yellow eyes are shining. Hate swells them, bugging and angry. The feral thing gnashes it's teeth in his gut as he watches how skin ripples over tender muscles and tendons. Acid may seep from the jowls of the winged bastard but saliva dribbles from Phynn's. He should be more mindful of the ugly words but hunger distracts him, guiding him with lashes of gut rotting pain from the consumption of grass.
Desperation makes Phynn weak. It manipulates a boney thin frame with a bloated belly to bend under the demon's will. The mention of flesh rips away his gaze to meet the hard eyes of the magician. Before he can even speak, he begins to grin a little too wide, nodding a little too quickly. "I swear it, Deimos." Phynn does not consider the consequences of this. He is an animal underneath it all and does what he must to survive. He would submit to another to gain what he needs despite what the unleashed creature in his mind screams feverishly. The yellow pools glitter rabidly as she stares at the great fanged stallion, awaiting what would be determined next.
P H Y N N