Sometimes the world doesn't need another hero, sometimes what it needs is a
monster.
He watches as she recoils.
He watches as the anger gives way to shock, then grief.
He watches as her legs fold and she collapses.
He watches as she breaks.
Oddly... it brings no satisfaction. This confused him, and his golden eyes narrowed as he stared down at Nasreen, lips curled in a disgusted sneer that was far too cruel for his refined face. Why did her crying not give the oh-so usual sense of satisfaction at hurting his alter ego? He stared down at her, stupefied, confused and growing angrier by the second. But not at her, no, rather at himself. At the idiot Altan, at his own inability to take pleasure from the tears of one the boy cared for.
His lips pressed tight together, the Morningstar rolled his weight from one side to the other, silent, watching her on the ground. A twitch and a shudder ran across his face, hindquarters side-stepping and ears flicking back. A snort tears from the black, and he whirls, pacing, stalking in the grass, the muscles along his rump and shoulders quivering every now and then, a sign to the battle within.
He looses, and Bucephalus stops his pacing, head low and breathing ragged. How much more of this could he take? Ears prick, and slowly the black lifted his head, looking back at Nasreen, ears pinning back once more. He needed to fix this...he was tired of parting with friends on anger-fueled terms. So slowly he approached, then folded his legs and sank down beside her, but didn't touch her.
He doubted his touch would be welcomed.
"I am sorry... I was tired, and there was no need to take it out on you." Truth, but not the entirety of it. Wryly the Morningstar found it amusing at how good he had become at telling pieces of the truth without lying or revealing the entire truth. "The World's Edge has invaded the Hidden Falls... perhaps your family is there?" He suggested, golden eyes watching her with a weary sadness.
@[Nasreen]
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