12-26-2017, 11:19 PM
There used to be a time when the trickster actually minded what others thought of him (as he stood before the pink queen and wished to be her assassin). Even in his first year the colt had a passion for chaos (to cause children to weep in the night, to force mothers to draw their young closer, to be the face that caused pain and terror to sweep through Beqanna) and he desired for all to know and feel that passion.
As he’s grown older, he’s matured. The trickster does not covet the opinions of others, but rather spends his time doing what he enjoys.
On this day, it happens to be disemboweling a badger. The sound of a voice causes the trickster to twist, red dripping from his mouth. His lean shoulders roll into a shrug. “I’ve never given a rat’s ass for manners.” His words are slippery, sliding out from between his teeth amid gore and still-warm blood (and it is true, he has never been one to trumpet for a ruler perched on the edge of the kingdom’s border or ask the mare if she wanted his length before putting it in or checking to make sure it was okay to play tricks before they were already performed).
His bruised eyes take in the magician with a smirk on the cusp of his lips. He steps away from his prey in response to the other’s comment. He is wordless for a moment (the magician is familiar, but they have never exchanged names) as he conjures up his sandstorms to swirl between his heels like purring kittens. And then, “I’ve seen you around before but I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
As he’s grown older, he’s matured. The trickster does not covet the opinions of others, but rather spends his time doing what he enjoys.
On this day, it happens to be disemboweling a badger. The sound of a voice causes the trickster to twist, red dripping from his mouth. His lean shoulders roll into a shrug. “I’ve never given a rat’s ass for manners.” His words are slippery, sliding out from between his teeth amid gore and still-warm blood (and it is true, he has never been one to trumpet for a ruler perched on the edge of the kingdom’s border or ask the mare if she wanted his length before putting it in or checking to make sure it was okay to play tricks before they were already performed).
His bruised eyes take in the magician with a smirk on the cusp of his lips. He steps away from his prey in response to the other’s comment. He is wordless for a moment (the magician is familiar, but they have never exchanged names) as he conjures up his sandstorms to swirl between his heels like purring kittens. And then, “I’ve seen you around before but I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
LOKII
@[Deimos]
