— I'll break you a hundred different ways —
He attracts the attention of someone, unfortunately.
Nightlock preferred to be the seeker, and not the one who had been sought. Approaching on his own terms was how he liked it, but unfortunately this is the hand he was being dealt. It would be easy to simply fly away, but it also gave the impression of fleeing. Birds scattered when anyone got close, in fear of being hunted; the gray stallion did not have that fear.
His wings remain listless at his sides, his almost-black eyes hardly flickering in her direction. ”No,” but there is something akin to a smile on his sanguine lips, though the action is hollow and meaningless. His breath rattles in his throat, evidence of his blatant lie, though he finally turns to capture her gaze with his own. She is unfamiliar to him, as most are, a nameless, animated corpse. From her face his gaze moves to observe her mismatched puppet of bones, and he could almost laugh at the irony. A skeleton puppet. Fucking perfect. ”Your pet is looking thin.”
Something pale flashes in his peripheral, rosy and pink and soft. She is walking ever so cautiously, as though each step held the chance of triggering a predatory response from him. He did not like to give chase; if she chose to run, he would not follow, would not hunt her down. His eyes drag for a moment across the svelte curve of her hip, and then to her doe-like eyes that watch him and the black mare so carefully. ”Someone is awfully brave today,” But he utters the words so quietly that they are more to himself, casting a glance to the black mare and her bone-stitched toy, and then back to the blushed mare trying to slip past.
— and I'll make you remember my face —
