_{Some say you're trouble, boy Just because you like to destroy All the things that bring the idiots joy} Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?

He comes, a tower of burning rage.

He sees them, those foals that the silver-backed whore had borne. He sees them and he smells them—and he knows them to be fillies.

He emerges from the green that surrounds, and Ka’Mate bursts from the skies, fueled to a manic happiness by the wrath that pulses from his master in great, sickening waves. He dives for the wet, dark creature with the audacity to stand; he dives and his talons find her head, her fragile baby’s skull, gripping her in a vice and dragging her to the earth, where she belongs. Ka’Mate is a great beast, full grown and fledged, and this baby is nothing to him—it does not even phase him that it is the flesh of his master, for master hates it, and master wants it dead and gone. He drags the filly creature to the dust, screaming his victory, waiting for that precious moment where master allows the vicious servant a decent meal of the newborn.

Master cannot articulate himself, however. He is dumb with rage.

He approaches the second-born foal, the smaller one that is too dumb or weak to stand (that is his natural assumption). Even as it squirms in the grasses, he reaches forward with one great hoof, pressed against her chest and neck and cheek (she is so small) as he readies the piston of his leg to press her down, to squish the life that already kindles so faintly in that tiny, tiny, miserable, offensive breast.

Ka’Ora must be swift.

She dives just as her brother had; she screams just as her brother screamed before her. Her breast, however, is torn with anguish to see her master act this way, towards his children; he is cleaving her in two. She dives upon his leg and he growls, ROARS at her, for her talons grip the feathers of her master’s limb, begging, begging, begging. Please! she cries, and yes, there are tears there, and the harpy is frantic with her hasty worry.

The fangs almost burst from the Grey-Eye’d’s mouth. You will MOVE, Ka’Ora! he rumbles through their mental link.

It is the first order she refuses from him. No! she begs, and the tears pour, and the older filly bleeds.

Move!

No!

How dare you, Ka’Ora?

Please, no! Your child!

I will not stand to have fillies born in my blood! All this time he does not notice the mother, dying in her silver pelt. She is nothing now; the passionate night is passed, and her pussy is ruined, at any rate, so she is of no use. Besides she birthed him fillies. It would be right for her to die in her disgrace.

Ka’Ora is sobbing. Her mind is wrecked. Master, please, no death, no dying—

Stand aside, Ka’Ora, or I will punish you as well.

Please, PLEASE, your daughter, they yours—

—They are weak Ka’Ora, and I will NOT—

—You born weak, too!

This stops him.


[You can play him as having awkwardly paused if that helps <3]
"talk talk talk"