It didn't take me much longer to shake the shock of how mental someone must truly be to be willing to injure themselves so horribly. I had to admit, in the past, I had been one to take anything on - daring them to hurt me - just to prove to myself that I was alive and that I could feel. But I knew when I might be taking it too far. I knew when my life hung in the balance and I had been careful to ensure that I didn't stumble over the cliff toward death. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to care at all, opening the wounds further and allowing the idea of an infection to permeate.

Either way, the shock and perhaps the uncertain feeling of concern had left me as soon as it had taken me and the words that I had given to him were simply my attempt at regaining my composure and sarcastic commentary. There were no nightmares that could latch onto this one's brain - he was the nightmare. He was the one who didn't care about pain and was willing to continue fighting to prove that they still had a functioning organ. He raises his cranium after I have spoken. He speaks of the fact that it is soothing and I simply bob my head a nefarious grin pulling on the muscles of my maw. I understood his escape all too well - until one gets to tumbling over that cliff of death. "I do, actually, understand that escape. The desire to feel something to prove to yourself you are actually alive." I say, a hint of annoyance on my maw. A mutt has given the desire to speak up and agree with my statement. Except, she doesn't understand my joy in seeing him break and the desire that he would. She sees it as a warning for his health. And, I find no reason to even acknowledge this wolf near us, instead allowing him to chastise the creature with a laugh.

My grin only grows larger - that is until I see something of familiar existence. A hellhound who no doubt is coming with D'Artagnan. His voice floating to my ears before I desire to drink in his presence. Quietly, my frame pulls even more into the form it could once hold seamlessly. Wench?! Had he seriously just called me a wench?! Someone deserves their mouth to be washed out with soap! He does not know a wench. You are mein puppe and a recke! Perhaps soap would be better than the hallucinogens that must be going in his body to give him the image of a wench upon your frame! Schwere hissed in my brain indignantly. I still was boiling up even more and more. That was. Until he began to attempt to take the one who was so perfectly crafted for my little group. That boiling led to an explosion.

Well advised not to dig a grave my ass. I wouldn't touch the dirt with my hooves unless it was to walk upon it. "I don't know, Knecht. Perhaps the mutt you have following you around should do something more useful then sit on display" I snarled, the poison back in my tongue as I barred my teeth in annoyance. "I also have tasks for someone who has no fears. Someone who doesn't care about injury. Someone who might enjoy the idea of fighting. We have plenty of ways to spread nightmare across the land, and you - you could be a wonderful one to lead the pack in a torrent of brutal, masochistic fun." My smirk back upon my face, yellow orbs glowing with the venom that comes with the training I have been given, as I stand forever taller, attempting to ignore the presence of the unicorn who does not understand that someone as pristine as I could never actually be a wench.

No. Not a wench. Just a necromancer with blood-thirst and a love of mayhem and mischief...

SEELE