Gryffen's eyes are hard to miss. They are the first thing the clown notices as the wraith emerges from the trees; he had known it was only a matter of time before the watchful King of Sylva would reveal himself, ask who Modicum Mortem had killed.
He drops the heart from his mouth; it rolls over towards Gryffen almost comically. It looks dry, shriveled up now from the joker's journey from the forest. It is secretly pleasing to the black stallion, but he keeps his composure, mouth a straight line across his face. His icy eyes lock with Gryffen's blood red hues.
"Who did you kill and why?" The wraith asks, and the slightest hint of a smirk paints the clown's lips.
"A mare. Black and white. I did not catch her name," He begins, tilting his head to relish in the memory. "I was in the field, looking for someone. She came to me, asked me to kill her. She said something along the lines of 'I am my own worst enemy.'" He stifles rolling his own eyes. "She was persistent...so I ripped out her heart." He gestures to the organ laying between them, then patiently waits for Gryffen's words.
Modicum Mortem
They all float…
@[Gryffen]