11-11-2018, 10:17 AM
Rajanish
She has a certain... style. Not class, if anyone wanted to call it that. She has a beak through which she is hard to understand, tentacles that he honestly would want to rip off her body (only one, only one) to see how the horse-hide and hair attach to the more slimy skin, to open one up to see what's inside; boneless muscle, how does it work?
He doesn't say much, though. She says she'd look better in a crown, and he tilts his head. He has not thirst for crowns. That was, to begin with, his whole problem with her appearance. "To have need of a crown in the face of a god," he tssks, shaking his head. "You're just fine as you are, as you have been created. Should he have wanted to crown you he would have done so."
Fortunately for her, he is not interested in such a mundane thing, as long as he is left alone. "Not here to challenge you. That's his department," he nods to the draft-like horse. "As long as you don't interrupt my studies, I could care less." And his pretty little prize in the pocket (hidden cave, really); the girl with light and fire, who's fire is now broken. She might be useful. She's sick now, of course, simply from being here or because of his own little trick. He wonders about the baby who will come this spring, one that he's sired by her mother just to see if he could, honestly - one that he will surely take away once born, and put in that cave as well, see how the sickness spreads from one to another, then back again, see if this Plague can kill a horse.
Why would he care about anyone being in name, the ruler of this place, when he only listens to Carnage?
He doesn't say much, though. She says she'd look better in a crown, and he tilts his head. He has not thirst for crowns. That was, to begin with, his whole problem with her appearance. "To have need of a crown in the face of a god," he tssks, shaking his head. "You're just fine as you are, as you have been created. Should he have wanted to crown you he would have done so."
Fortunately for her, he is not interested in such a mundane thing, as long as he is left alone. "Not here to challenge you. That's his department," he nods to the draft-like horse. "As long as you don't interrupt my studies, I could care less." And his pretty little prize in the pocket (hidden cave, really); the girl with light and fire, who's fire is now broken. She might be useful. She's sick now, of course, simply from being here or because of his own little trick. He wonders about the baby who will come this spring, one that he's sired by her mother just to see if he could, honestly - one that he will surely take away once born, and put in that cave as well, see how the sickness spreads from one to another, then back again, see if this Plague can kill a horse.
Why would he care about anyone being in name, the ruler of this place, when he only listens to Carnage?
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break.
No voice to cry out suffering.
No voice to cry out suffering.
@[Yidhra] Raj says 'have it, just don't cross me' haha