05-11-2016, 12:55 PM
AND ABANDON, THAT GREETS YOU IN THE NIGHT WITH SNAKE EYES, THE MOST PRECIOUS KIND.
Should he be worried about the way her eyes glint when he accepts her offer? No, not this time around. Guarded, perhaps, but not worried. Besides, what’s the phrase his father repeated when Wyrm got an itch to toy with the locals? ”Wolves do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep…” He’d told him, or something along those lines. Wyrm usually finds that paying his father extended attention is a drain on his mental capacity, hence why he’s here in the Deserts now with a mysterious girl headed to an unknown destination.
They leave readily, with her fronting the expedition so that he can observe from behind. Any farther into the dry wasteland and Wyrm is sure that they’ll be swallowed up by the sea of golden sand. But she seems confident in her direction, correcting herself slightly now and again so that it begins to feel as if they’re walking somewhere. She’s rather curious herself, isn’t she though? All this time spent playing a subjective poker match of sorts and he’s yet to lose interest. It’s a first. He’s not sure if he particularly likes that fact.
Either way, he remembers what he’s agreed to as soon as he feels a nameless pressure near the base of his skull. Not painful, certainly not unwelcome, but still there. He can’t begin to explain the otherness that is her gift, it’s too odd and almost imperceptible in nature. He’s even begun to think it was a phantom sensation until her skin flashes and she’s suddenly wearing his trademark color. Wyrm grins.
“I could sense you, at first.” He relays, wanting her to know how any of her subjects might respond to her gift. “It went away as quickly as it came, but it was there. I doubt I would’ve recognized it if you hadn’t told me what you were going to do.” He finishes, camel hooves sinking deftly into the shifting earth. There’s a thousand possibilities in the back of his mind now, but he chooses his questions carefully. “Can you see my memories? Or can you only manipulate what you know?” He wonders, oddly at peace with the notion that he’s got someone else inside of his twisted little head.
They leave readily, with her fronting the expedition so that he can observe from behind. Any farther into the dry wasteland and Wyrm is sure that they’ll be swallowed up by the sea of golden sand. But she seems confident in her direction, correcting herself slightly now and again so that it begins to feel as if they’re walking somewhere. She’s rather curious herself, isn’t she though? All this time spent playing a subjective poker match of sorts and he’s yet to lose interest. It’s a first. He’s not sure if he particularly likes that fact.
Either way, he remembers what he’s agreed to as soon as he feels a nameless pressure near the base of his skull. Not painful, certainly not unwelcome, but still there. He can’t begin to explain the otherness that is her gift, it’s too odd and almost imperceptible in nature. He’s even begun to think it was a phantom sensation until her skin flashes and she’s suddenly wearing his trademark color. Wyrm grins.
“I could sense you, at first.” He relays, wanting her to know how any of her subjects might respond to her gift. “It went away as quickly as it came, but it was there. I doubt I would’ve recognized it if you hadn’t told me what you were going to do.” He finishes, camel hooves sinking deftly into the shifting earth. There’s a thousand possibilities in the back of his mind now, but he chooses his questions carefully. “Can you see my memories? Or can you only manipulate what you know?” He wonders, oddly at peace with the notion that he’s got someone else inside of his twisted little head.