04-26-2016, 05:51 PM
AND ABANDON, THAT GREETS YOU IN THE NIGHT WITH SNAKE EYES, THE MOST PRECIOUS KIND.
Curiouser and Curiouser, it seems. Wyrm had been upfront about his little ability, minute changes here and there for artificial purposes, but by now she understands the gist of his power. Her own admission of a trait takes him off guard, if only for a second. “I can make you see things ... “ She tells him, that assured sense of something particularly devilish lying in the undertones of the statement. The confession nags at him like some parasitic creature eating away at the base of his skull … make him see things. What things? He thinks, quietly, settling the beast that cries for attention at the back of his mind.
He’s not afraid of what he’ll see. Death, decay, ruin, they’re all old toys of his. Killing for sustenance has nearly always been a staple of his diet. Red meat was simply better. He supposes that he’s more unsure about the effects of what her little experiment would have. (Let’s be honest, it was an experiment now, or else she wouldn’t be asking a total stranger for practice when she so clearly seemed to know what she was doing.) Would he uncontrollably shift? Expand? Contract? He can’t be sure - but he knows that if she’s overcome with fascination about the true power her abilities could muster, he could equally admit to being excited about how his own trait would respond to the treatment.
Call him a glutton for science.
“Well,” He begins, sighing as he surveys the still empty Deserts. “I don’t suppose anything more interesting is going to come along.” The shriveled earth offers no response, so the gangly colt eases forward and juts out his pearl nose. “I can’t promise that my body will behave, so this is your only warning.” He quips, seeing that as the most extravagant form of kindness he’ll ever be prompted to give. “Aside from that, have at it.”
He’s not afraid of what he’ll see. Death, decay, ruin, they’re all old toys of his. Killing for sustenance has nearly always been a staple of his diet. Red meat was simply better. He supposes that he’s more unsure about the effects of what her little experiment would have. (Let’s be honest, it was an experiment now, or else she wouldn’t be asking a total stranger for practice when she so clearly seemed to know what she was doing.) Would he uncontrollably shift? Expand? Contract? He can’t be sure - but he knows that if she’s overcome with fascination about the true power her abilities could muster, he could equally admit to being excited about how his own trait would respond to the treatment.
Call him a glutton for science.
“Well,” He begins, sighing as he surveys the still empty Deserts. “I don’t suppose anything more interesting is going to come along.” The shriveled earth offers no response, so the gangly colt eases forward and juts out his pearl nose. “I can’t promise that my body will behave, so this is your only warning.” He quips, seeing that as the most extravagant form of kindness he’ll ever be prompted to give. “Aside from that, have at it.”