She is quiet but her body vibrates and the air nearly crackles with the electric fire that coursed through her veins. She is a thing of glory, celebrated in another world, worshiped in a distant life. Murc can taste the essence of her cool demeanor like water-smoothed stone. Her skin is sleek and dark and something that Murc wants to drink rain droplets from but he would not confess any of this so instead he would steal glances from time to time as he simply walked at her side.
He does not know where he is going and he is not sure why he walks with her. At first it had been in jest, to tease a name from between the tight lips but instead she walked on as she attempted to ignore him and eventually the man continues for he simply felt the walk to return to the forest was too far to return to for the evening.
The man's thoughts are easy and light as he walks with near silence near her smaller frame. Had the man known that she referred to herself as 'hag' it would have been devastating. Yes, the mare, queenly in her own right, was far from the wretched shape Murc would ever consider a hag. Those creatures, women of sour tongue and loose 'morals', where the haggish. Murc would not spend a moment aside foul harpies with poisoned wombs.
Their walk is a ruffle of decaying leaves and cold air. Murc is nearly lulled by the sounds till the emerald eyed mare is suddenly halting in from of his with a body much smaller but much stronger. The lavender-grey eyed beast blinks as though he was clearing a fog from his eyes. He regains focus to meet the hard gaze of the dark hell-cat, her face nearly glowing and glassy beneath a full moon. "You are special. You do not fear me." His words are a low rumble of thunder as he plucks the words carefully from the sky like lightening bugs. He returns her gaze with his own weighted one. Murc was not a creature of magic but a product of dark rage and sometimes the savage, feral thing that gnaws in your belly is far scarier than what could be met by the eye.
MURC
just as i can be so cruel