01-10-2017, 09:40 AM
He is pressed in for the advantage. This child would be saved. He might be save for the Darkness, but he would be saved. Kilter he whispers again, drawing closer. The boy, that wolfpup, was dressed for life, though he looked like the walking dead. I shall take you home, then, Kilter and show you how to live. How to bathe in blood. How to really live well. Why there was this concern for the unwanted child of hell, he has no idea. But the child of Eight was worth something, to someone. Even if he was not wanted by his own father.
And so Deimos would take him...
You shall not have him!
He had heard her previous words, but in the winds carried about by the blizzard and falling snow, her words were worth as much as her feeble attempts on his body—useless. He laughs at her again. He cannot help himself. “You are so fucking delusional!” he says to her, between chokes of laughter. The smell of her blood come across his nostrils and he finds that his body is pining for another taste of her. He wants her. Bad. And she’d fit so nicely, too. Would she wiggle? He bet she would…
He doesn’t have time for this. His wings… they splay wide open, the fingers grasping outward towards her. Metal spikes draw forward from their talons, and outward towards her, attempting to pin her to the ground. Through hoof, flesh, mane… he does not care. Because in like all things, Raeg’n does not think before she acts—in this circumstance, she is wrong. And he sees through her. She may call him stupid in her mind… but he can see through it.
She wants him, to spite herself. Bad.
He sobers, his voice racking against the boy’s brain. His first words to him aloud. That grainy voice that, though quiet, is cold. Certain. Powerful. “Kilter. If you choose life, come with me. If you choose insanity or the world of delusions… you see what comes for you.”
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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