[open] Bring out your dead [Open to those of dark heart or easy to break]

[Gryffen]

They lack finesse. Wayward souls, no instruction. As beautiful as their destruction is, it’s messy. Sloppy. Brutish bullies that throw their weight around and think themselves “evil”. Simple minded thugs. Darkness use to be romantic. It use to be more exciting, enticing. They have lost the meaning of the word. The darkest one’s he had ever worked with had been intelligent, thought outside the box. Subtlety was a lost art. They could learn much from it. Nobody is scared of any of them. The fear they create is dull and flat, it lacks layers. It lacks respect. Where was the terror they claim to cause? It’s lacking in this world and the winged red eyed stallion fears them least of all. Red eyes catch a mirror image in the woods but he does not give away the other’s location, knowing magic will find him anyways. The girl is… Unusual. Sweet and kind. His absolute favorite. She’s pleading for his life, how quaint. Deimos had already released him, it seems he had struck a nerve. Good, that was the point. As the dark fingers release it’s grip on his heart, he exhales deeply. Wings flare out behind him, a mockery of a beautiful snowy angel. A grimace finds his lips as Deimos turns his attention to the three eyed mare, flinging insults and invading her. A sigh escapes them, they were all so ruthless. ”Manners.” He chides lightly, looking slightly amused. Of course he would have rather approached her in a much different way, thanking her for saving him. Luring her in, earning her trust. It was so delicious to break them then, not to mention the usefulness that trust can give. The hard dark monster has forgotten this, he is too wild now. Raining dark matter on the eavesdropping eyes of the forest. He must remember if his greater plans can ever be accomplished. ”Not as expendable as you might think..” He murmurs low enough that the magic man will hear, his glowing eyes lingering on the extra one that sits strikingly on her forehead. And then the pompous young one appears. Oh there’s a use for that too. He thinks he’s riding high when he’s only lingering on Deimos’s coattails. As the younger stallion sidles by, he merely regards him cooly. He is too young to remember any of Gryffen’s former accomplishments, his “waves” as Longclaw calls them. In time, he will learn and more importantly, he will remember. For now he simply ignores him and his haughty words. The adults were speaking. ”My dear…” He address’s the mare who he assumes to be most frightened and therefore still vulnerable to suggestion. Not completely lost to them yet. ”Unfortunately you stumbled across an argument amongst friends.” His voice is soft and silky. ”Forgive my enthusiastic partner. He can’t help himself sometimes.” A low chuckle as smooth strands of white snap against his hindquarters, an attempt to snap Deimos out of his daze. She could be useful, he thinks. Assuming he will hear it as he had already invaded his mind before. He wonders what the purpose is behind that third eye. As much as he wants to pluck it out and add to his ever expanding collectibles, perhaps it’s purpose is more important latched to her forehead. ”I have an idea…” He pauses, knowing that Deimos may have already dug it from his mind. A soft shrug of his shoulder, he doesn’t plan on keeping it secret for long anyways. ”Something fun. A little more challenging. Putting your skills to good use…” He now directs his attention to the little prick who had pranced in behind Deimos, his facial expression unreadable. ”But if that doesn’t pique your interest, you're welcome to fuck off. Since you seem to have such better things to do…” Gryffen - - - - - The Big Bad Wolf