Babies shouldn't swear. "You did," she points out, an unpleasant tinge to her voice. She feels terribly...strange. Her flesh is tight across her muscles, like it's suddenly become too small for her, and every part of her body aches. She doesn't yet understand that this is what anger feels like. She doesn't yet comprehend that the tightness of her muscles is the small, sane part of her mind holding the rest of her body back from attacking him; it, unlike the rest of her, knows she is no match for him. It and it alone is keeping her from a thorough beating.

Judging by Ker's pained expression, she's feeling the same queer emotion as well. After all, they are mentally linked. The eaglet's tiny, fledgling mind is an open canvas to absorb Oizys' thoughts and feelings, and she feels her bonded's temper keenly. It makes her bloodstained beak arch and her grey feathers flex, whilst her pathetic chicken-wings beat futilely against the air they are not yet strong enough to capture.

Oizys suddenly pictures Father raging onto the scene, dismantling this boy piece by painful piece. The image, unrealistic as it may be, brings a cold smile to her face. It cheers her up immensely, and she finds herself relaxing again. Her muscles unclench, and her tail ceases its angered flickering.

Why would I tell you? "Don't give a fuck whether you do or not," she says casually, feeling a thrilled shiver down her spine at using that Bad Word again. She decides she quite likes the Bad Word, and makes a note to herself to use it more often. Not in front of Mother, though - she thinks the ironheart would have an aneurysm of horror, and then where would she get her warm, sweet milk from?

Ah, then - suddenly she's struck gold. He slams back an ear, and the gargoyle's cold eyes glow with pleasure. When he speaks again, she giggles. Now she has the image of Father devouring him in her head to look at whenever her temper starts to rise - now she knows that he can hurt, too - she doesn't find his insults quite so grating. "Don't care. Father wanted me dead, don't matter if Mother does too." She shrugs nonchalantly, as though parents contemplating infanticide is just another thrilling yet unremarkable tale on her quest towards greatness. And, indeed, she is strangely calm about it. Father wanted her dead, but now he doesn't - he saw the strength in her and Enyo, and let them live. She's sure Mother wanted them dead at some point too, when they curled like parasites in her womb, but now she loves them unconditionally and would die to protect them.

Shit happens, and people change. The gargoyle doesn't dwell.

"So why's your Ma hate you?" she questions, feigning interest and sympathy as she inserts a croon into her squeaky young voice. She wants to twist that knife deeper, try to get as big a reaction from him as he did from her. Ker giggles nastily on her withers, puncuating her words. "Is it 'cos you're ugly, or is it 'cos she hoped your Father would kill you for her?" She tilts her blackened head, blood-tipped horns pointed like rude gestures into the heavens.