Jesper's smirk never faltered as he listened to her words. It was clear to her that he believed his own poison. By his admission he had sent himself into their clutches. A spy he called himself, come in search of the chink in their armor. Yet all he'd found was torment, torture and bruises. All he had left was the clinging hope that Brennen would be there when he was released from their grasp. However much it pained her to admit it, the king was no fool. Ischia was still in the midst of its regrowth, and though it grew stronger with each passing day, he would not risk his numbers to settle a slight. The intelligence Jesper gained from them would be worth nothing more than the weight of his words.
Unsurprisingly, the black kept his silence and began his departure from her. A gurgling laugh erupted from her lips. Oh how he was weak! She had to give him credit, however, the stallion knew when he was beat. For a moment she trailed after him, keeping a modest difference - just enough to continue her impression of fear upon him. As she lazily followed in the shadow of his steps she begun to hum.
Sylva was indeed a dar force. Whispered secrets swirled upon the wind, happy to divulge themselves into the ears of those ready and willing to listen. Astarael fed off the things others wished to keep hidden, Jesper was no exception to her keen skills of observation.
Words formed for themselves on the tip of her tongue and as he drifted farther from her she sang after his departing form.
"Jesper had a little Lamb, little Lamb, little Lamb," she sang, her voice full of lyrical cruelty. "Jesper had a little Lamb, whose blood will surely flow!"
@[Jesper]