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Cursed, he was cursed.
The laughing bloody harpy snarls and sneers, a twisted grin that would haunt the more sensitive creatures in his company surely. At first, the stallion feels nothing different aside from standing in a strange attire amidst others bedecked in Halloween's finest, when suddenly it begins. A pain unlike any the stallion had ever felt. The twisting of bones beneath the surface, the feeling of being broken, mended, rebroken. The snarling hiss and snap of flesh and bone tearing underneath a falsely serene coat.
The wolf begins to growl, his teeth clenching together as the pawed brute makes back through the maze toward the forest. The costume of a valiant knight shakes itself loose, and then they tear through. Surprisingly bloodless, as if the vessels were stitched back by this same dark magic. What is left, the unmistakable ache of the pierced flesh, the tugged and torn muscle, and the strange sensation of weight upon his back.
Uhh, Osiris... from above, the black dragon peers with curious violet eyes. Both of the amethysts staring pointedly at his back. Turning his neck to peer backward, the massive wolf leaps from shock and surprise. Webbed, flawless wings stretch outward like that of a bat. The stallion grumbles and groans. "Why me?" he asks, looking toward Comadre. Instead of offering consolation, the dragon starts to laugh with a jolly tune, his cooing voice breaking against the trunks of the trees and chattering in the leaves.
Looking down at his paws, Osiris sighs. Irritated. He was cursed, most definitely. After all, was his appearance not freakish enough without the addition of more unnatural limbs?
We can go flying together, Osiris, the dragon coos excitedly. "No," the wolf answer pointedly, stalking forward in the night.
His frown growing exponentially deeper.
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