Sorry, Not Sorry [Diable Rouge, any]

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

Diable doesn’t need him, Longclaw is well-aware of this. Karaugh is little more than a pest, and a mare at that. Hardly above an afternoon meal in his mind. But it’s when they get snippy, when they start to feel that they’re ”Special”, that Longclaw likes to intrude and slap them back into their places.

Diable’s bark of laughter interrupts the growing fire in Longclaw’s heart. With the snap of his shimmering head, the fellow guard turns his apt attention back to the roan and listens as he paints a picture for Karaugh to be cast in her true light. At the mention of Kaiode, (someone Claw can only assume was a foal, based on their current use of the word ‘child’) his blue-tipped ears bury themselves against the crown of his skull and his eyes, wild and flashing, turn back to the fanged femme.

“You heard him, simpering coward.” He hisses, teeth needling into fine points as he shifts his mouth, “Whatever you’re looking for can’t be found here, so get the fuck out.” He snarls, the globes of his wild eyes suddenly combusting into striking blue flames. Exuding a raw heat, the hungry tendrils of fire spiral upwards from the sockets nestled into his skull, twisting and curling into themselves as he takes another decisive step towards the Sylvian trash. Effortlessly, Longclaw’s transformed what once could be considered beauty into this malevolent mask of demonic hate, jaws spread wide with threats he’s burning to unleash.

All Diable has to do is say the word.

@[Diable Rouge] @[Karaugh]