Swimmin’: a word so simple wrapped in an accent that . . . does not belong in Beqanna. Litotes turns his head ever so slightly to the left, carnivorous smile sliding up one side of his mouth.
What a curious little thing, glowing red and terribly alone in a land known for its excellent care of children.
The moon reflects pale white off of the dewy water still lingering on the filly’s scales - lion eyes fixating coldly on their distracting glitter. That near-cruel golden gaze remains there, then slowly (so - slowly) dragging back to the child’s (only his eyes moving, his head still focused intently in the direction of the glimmer), an absent mother now dangling like poisonous information right before his eyes. A single claw digs lazily into the sand, calm (considering . . . dangerous).
He could eat her. Sure, the scales will offer a challenge, but what is a first meal as a predator if not challenging? Those spindly filly legs would snap under his weight, suddenly rendering her protective scales inconsequential. Ember will squeal, but he can silence it quickly with a firm blow to her jaw. She might still be alive when he takes his first bite, though more than likely she will bleed out from all the tearing.
Sure. I could eat her.
A marbled glaze has passed over his eyes, clearing away with an acutely feline blink as she asks, “D’you think you could help me find her?”
Ultimately, it is Ember’s bizarre accent that reminds him of who he is, so strange it redirects his obsession. A low rumble builds in the back of his throat and eventually spills over his lips, quiet like focused background music. Sand flies in an arched line when he whips his tail around, swishing the flexible bones curiously, the movement miming one pondering their options.
“Yes, I think I can do that,” is his final decision, followed by a smooth turn of his head. There is really no point, he thinks, a child with no name is certainly a motherless child. A twinge of empathy tightens his chest, though he cannot quite place it over the racing predatory instincts. “In the meantime, I think I will call you Ember. Where should we look first, little flame?”
He knows that they will not find her mother, but is content to offer a distraction for the child while he can.
i don't want your pity, i just want somebody near me
guess i'm a coward, i just want to feel all right
@[Ember]
