satanic silk

Silk stepped back a pace, letting the cream colored mare have her space. His closeness had rattled her. His ears twitched back. He didn't like that he had unsettled her. She seemed rather timid, and fragile. Instead of feeling aggressive, he found himself wanting to protect her. In this case it seemed he needed to protect her from himself. He glanced at her bird. My wings are bigger than yours. He thought snidely. He looked back at the mare's wound and stepped one more pace away. The stallion noted her answer in his memory, and let the topic drop for now.

Instead he turned his attention toward the arriving female. She seemed like a fast talker, quick to introduce herself into the conversation, and to make known precisely who she was. Silk kept quiet as the two vixens exchanged pleasantries. The beige mare, also winged with beautiful amber feathers, introduced herself as Meraki. The 'Diviner' called herself Africa. He glanced at the fire again as Africa noted that the fire was a tribute to the Sun God. Sun God? What the hell is that? It seemed pretty self-explanatory, but then Silk had never seen a deity before and he wasn't sure that he really had faith that any deity existed. The sun rose and fell - that's just the way life worked. He never really pondered the cause behind it all.

It was a moment before Silk realized they were both staring at him. Clearly they expected him to share his identity too. He wasn't sure he was ready to reveal that much about himself yet, but a name couldn't hurt, could it? A stupid thing really. The name does not always describe the creature. In his case, he thought it did. He snorted at them, his nostrils flaring and quivering. Satanic Silk. He said smoothly and quietly. He did not care much what any being called him. There are more important things to identity than a name. As long as he knew it, that was all that mattered.

He turned toward the fire and moved closer, revealing the color over his face and in his eyes. Carefully, he released a giant wing, and dipped it toward the flickering flames. Gently, he dipped the claw on the edge of his wing in the fire. The flames licked at the bone, and Silk twitched a little as some of the flame touched the leather. The singe tickled his nose and he snorted again. As he pulled his wing back he examined the bone, it seemed to have a small amber glow to it that quickly faded. A soft, barely noticeable smile slipped across his lips. He liked fire.