09-25-2017, 09:09 PM
a ghost in the darkness.
He hadn’t remembered the mare had fangs before. Apparently she was good at keeping secrets. So was he. While he doesn't doubt the silver tongued Karaugh could handle her own, he was loathe to put something that belonged to him in harm’s way in case he wanted to keep it. Both the clown and the vampire are eager for blood, eager for death. He can never understand it, that gnawing hunger that consumes them. It is interesting to watch and observe. His pleasure comes from a scientific standpoint. All the most interesting mysteries stem from darkness. Death was the greatest mystery of all which was where he was drawn to it. However he didn’t lust for it (like those before him, like the Nightmother). He could enjoy it when it satisfied a cruel need to hurt or weaken someone (like the death of the mare in Taiga). But he didn’t need it, it wasn’t the only way to curb his appetite.
Despite giving life to the child, it’s mother has little regard for it. She pushes the colt forward and doesn’t protest for it’s life. Curiouser and curiouser. He can practically feel the clown trembling with anticipation but he takes his time, observing the child. ”No physical traits.” He murmurs to himself, disappointment apparent. That scent of magic doesn’t linger around it. His lips curl in disdain. He had hoped for better. However the child was a boy. A chance to spread his line, create more that may not be as disappointing. He was also an unusual silver color and sometimes looks can be just as pleasing as magic. ”It will live… For now.”
A pause as his crimson gaze looks to each of them, thinking. Morty’s fascination with child death was abnormal but useful. To have a child killer in his lands would surely outrage the rest of the world. Good, let it. ”You name it.” He says quietly to the mare with a slight shrug. His creativity didn’t reach to naming offspring. He would rather plot the sacking of kingdoms then spend time on such trivial activities. With a final calculated cold look at his son, he turns and leaves the cave. As cold, quiet, and deadly as a snowstorm
Despite giving life to the child, it’s mother has little regard for it. She pushes the colt forward and doesn’t protest for it’s life. Curiouser and curiouser. He can practically feel the clown trembling with anticipation but he takes his time, observing the child. ”No physical traits.” He murmurs to himself, disappointment apparent. That scent of magic doesn’t linger around it. His lips curl in disdain. He had hoped for better. However the child was a boy. A chance to spread his line, create more that may not be as disappointing. He was also an unusual silver color and sometimes looks can be just as pleasing as magic. ”It will live… For now.”
A pause as his crimson gaze looks to each of them, thinking. Morty’s fascination with child death was abnormal but useful. To have a child killer in his lands would surely outrage the rest of the world. Good, let it. ”You name it.” He says quietly to the mare with a slight shrug. His creativity didn’t reach to naming offspring. He would rather plot the sacking of kingdoms then spend time on such trivial activities. With a final calculated cold look at his son, he turns and leaves the cave. As cold, quiet, and deadly as a snowstorm
Gryffen