| Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None
& Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None
M.E. |
speak
Hmph. Figures.
The smell of the surf, the sand, the chatter of gulls in the distance. He attempts to discard them, these horrid reminders of a time that should be lost to oblivion, if time had any sense. He supposes he will be haunted by the legacy of a raggedy filly, tormented to no end by whatever happens to waft upon the breeze. He grows angry with himself, for the first time in many moons. He had been so powerful and perfect, so tangibly amazing, impeccable in his growth, his ability, her perchance for learning and evolution. Yet fillies remain his undoing.
He scoffs at the child lying dead upon the sand. That was a filly too, he sees. He ponders the dead, and how very nearly all of them thus far had possessed a ragged gash underneath their tails. It is amusing to him, really, this wave of death that has descended upon the realm. He sees many losing their heads over the spectacle, panicking at the surge of darkness that has settled upon their hearts. Reginald, however, sees something beneficial in all of these, besides the power that captivates him, the raw evil that hypnotizes him: the blight of the woman is being scourged from the warm earth he bestrides.
He notices the interesting object within the filly’s ear. Bone. He would approach, but the creature is so foul already, without the acrid odor of death surrounding; he will leave it well enough alone. His word is good enough for his comrades.
He departs.
[For Sons of Anarchy]
|
You can't escape the wrath of my heart
Beating to your funeral song
All faith is lost for hell regained
|
by: Kristi Herbert at flickr
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
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