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The game of catch continues for a short while, until Cynder's rumbling stomach gets the better of her. With the brute strength of her arms she rips the carcass in half and throws one to Vera, soaring back to Tyradon's shoulder to messily eat the rest with such gusto that gore spatters halfway up his neck. Again his muzzle wrinkles in disgust, but he doesn't admonish the dragon - she's enjoying herself for once, and she deserves to do so.
His sister reveals she prefers equines, which is good, but that she has no particular objections to the other species - not as good, but he supposes she cannot be perfect. "Fair enough," he says, somewhat begrudgingly. It would be ideal if she shared his blind racism, but he's rapidly becoming aware that there aren't many like him around. He is an extremist, shallow to the point of blindness; it's a rare beast that is as full of hate as Tyradon. "If you approach others, obviously I would prefer if you restricted yourself to equines, as I wish for the highest-level members of our Regime to be purebloods. However, I do accept that unicorns and pegasi provide useful brawn." They are dispensable, great to shove on the front line and leave to it - the fact they're usually magically blessed tends to help things. "I should be getting back - things to do. Keep searching for new members, Adele, and we can have another meeting in a couple of weeks with the rest of the Regime to discuss plans...unless you have anything further to speak about?" He's a busy man, but he can always spare some time to get to know his sister better. She is the only blood sibling he's likely to meet that isn't cursed with a horn, after all. |
[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
