satanic silk

He used the claw on his wing to scratch at an itch absentmindedly as he listened to the vixen speak. A small smile spread across his face as he found that this lady, Ghost, and he both agreed on at least two beautiful things in this world. He found that the unipeg that was before him was very similar to himself - winged, dark like the night and shadowy, with blood-colored ornaments. They even shared some of their silvery characteristics as well - his mane and tail, with the whites of her wings, only then tipped in the color of blood. Silk saw her gaze at his face and wondered silently what she thought of his markings. She did not seem to be scared off, like so many others had. Though it was a small thing, this warmed the deep, hidden coals of his heart. A good step toward friendship.

And it seemed the beautiful vixen agreed. He took a step closer toward her, but remained out of reach. His nostrils flared slightly and he tilted his head toward her with surprisingly delicate respect. Politeness was not common for him, but so far the two seemed to be hitting it off, and he felt that she'd earned it, at least for now. It is a name that suits you well. I am called Satanic Silk. He paused for a moment, then answered her question. I am from Dragon's Throat. I am only here to explore and familiarize myself with my surroundings. His eyes brightened, a light coming into the blood color.

Tentatively, he reached his soft velvet muzzle toward the delicate horn upon her forehead. She was the first unipeg that he had come upon, and he wondered what it was like to have both wings and a horn. The fuzz on the end of his muzzle touched the tip of her horn just enough for it to poke him, and he drew back, a childish smirk upon his lips. He did not envy her horn, for he was fairly satisfied with his wings and other adornments just the way they were. All the same, it left him curious about those that were different. Then again, he thought as he examined her wings, you are already different from other pegasi. Your wings are leathery, while theirs are made of feather. You have yet to meet another like yourself. His eyes grew dark and shadowed. Maybe that was why his mother had abandoned him as soon as he was weaned. Maybe the marks on his forehead had nothing to do with it. No - it was likely a combination. He was young, but he was smart enough to know that.

He returned his attention to her pretty face. Your pardon. Sometimes I can be impulsive. It was a true statement. Silk was often impulsive, and generally did not give a fuck one way or another. He rarely regretted his actions, but he'd at least offer a comment for those who were not prepared for his impulsiveness, or his boldness. Though fully grown and matured, Silk was still coming into his own, and was quite headstrong with no desire to curb his will.