bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please
Woolf merely shrugs at Wolfbane’s concern.
The mulberry stallion has no particular thirst for destruction, not particular hunger to end lives. He has nothing in him that drives him to cruelty, although he doesn’t necessarily mind the blood on his hands. All he wants is a way to end the boredom. Something to sink his teeth into. It has been so long since he has been able to find something worth his time—something where he could learn something new. If he had misjudged the two in front of him and they didn’t want such wild power, he didn’t mind either way.
One corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk at the visions that Wolfbane brings to the forefront of his mind. He tilts his head in thought and then just nods. “All accomplished easily enough,” he muses, pushing the thoughts into the striped King’s mind. For a moment, he loses himself in tracing the stallion’s heritage, delighted with what he found. “Especially if you are willing to bleed for your people, nephew.” Half great-nephew would be more accurate, but Woolf didn’t care much for semantics. It was enough that he was related to the King through his great-grandmother. It was enough of a connection.
His attention is caught by the mare, catching the edges of her irritation at the death of the plants. It blossoms again beneath her, wavering into vision as if it had never been gone at all. There is no additional foliage—just the original plants he had found when he had first stopped. As if he had never been there at all. “I am bored,” he answers in his heavy voice, no emotion running through it. “There is nothing you can do to pay me. I simply seek a way to occupy my time,” he pauses, adding a truthful afterthought. “I seek a way to learn more.” He glances upward at the sky as it passes, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Although I have also told Scorch I would be visiting Nerine before I made a final choice in residency.”
woolf
I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste
