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03-16-2014, 04:50 PM
A smile tugged almost playfully at the corners of his mouth, amused rather than sinister or grim as he sensed the eyes of the mares upon him. Morir didn't apologize again; what good would it do? If the captured dove wanted to blame him for her current predicament then she was welcome to do so, it didn't bother him to be faced with wrath or scorn. However, as his silver-tongued sovereign started weaving riddles and half-truths in response to a fair question the beast stirred restlessly, heavy masked head tossing back with ragged black banners whipping around the face. "Don't be so cryptic, Confutatis" he admonished impatiently and shifted the stance to appear slightly more relaxed - without for that sake letting Nyx think she had a way of escaping. She wouldn't be going anywhere until they were finished talking to her. "We simply want to speak with you" he continue, massive neck turning to face the silver doe with blinded eyes staring at her from empty sockets. "Perhaps I was wrong in assuming that you wouldn't linger to let us finish, had I approached you any other way? Rest assured that you will not come to harm here; the only thing we will take from you is a piece of your time." Almost casually the tall, powerfully built youngster settled in beneath the ancient rotunda by which they stood, tasseled tail curling lazily around a black leg like a furred snake. He looked comfortable where he stood, a disembodied shadow lingering much too sharp and solid in the light of day. Did she fear what she saw, should the fae turn to gaze upon the masked beast, draped in darkness and death? Normally it would have been a good response, but today he had sheathed his blades, tucked away claws and fangs and lingered as little more than a young stallion, slightly too sure of himself and rather curious about this pretty bird he had managed to catch. "My name is Morir. I hail from the northern moors, a good few weeks march to the east and north of here. Confutatis here was kind enough to offer me companionship when I came upon this land, and shelter against the walking dead who roamed the landscape." "Won't you tell us about yourself, Nyx? I'm afraid I cannot see you as well as I should like, nor can I say I perceive your friend... was it Dominous? Perhaps I can persuade you to describe him for me..." Was it kindness that reflected from that smooth dark voice, or just honeyed barbs, sweetened to contrast against the venomous riddles offered from the cracked lips of the dark mare? At any rate Morir came off as rather conversational when he spoke. There was honest interest resting on those features visible beneath the pallid death-mask, and with the way he seemed to relax it was growing clear that he had all day at his disposal. What if I say I will never surrender? |
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