Intimidation was worn in abundant, copious amounts, twisting with his hedonistic reticence, contorting and cavorting with the squall of his cold fervor, ensnaring the warmth of the lands until the benevolence of spring was lost, discarded, ruined. The analytical quandaries of his membrane reeled, decadence enshrined in the callous, smooth course of destruction, where the earth pined for seraphic virtues and he lacerated, ripped, clawed, the might of its fallen, shaking, quivering pleas. Was she eager for destruction, devastation, to unravel the chords of the begging, yearning, longing souls, undermining, unhinging, sinking the sentiments and values of the pitiless, the weak, the feeble? Did she want to watch the world burn around her, crumble into ashes, consumed and ravaged? Or was she another newcomer lost in the squabble and rancor of dispassionate upheaval, left to simmer in the bitter catastrophes of yesteryear? Unchanging in his ravenous appeal for obliteration, the cool, ruthless gaze of his vicious haze remained sequestered upon the mare, witness again to ferocity and audacity layered in the restraint of her movements, of her motions. He was a master of control, of supremacy over the lacquer of his form, subtle, taut turns that invoked calamity, that incensed barbarity, and to find another amongst the quorum of impulsive, impetuous fools would be a welcome change. But her statement – no, he didn’t question her usefulness (the wicked always found a purpose for their brethren), but merely her regard, the aspirations beheld, if she was lacquered in the same licentious enamel as they. The seething, puncturing stare watched her all the more, but couldn’t find any reeling effusion of virtue tangled in the midst of her savagery, any distinct hue of radiant divinity, and allowed the moment to pass unhindered, unfettered, disregarded for the ruthless shards of his quietude, the single word uttered like a fleeting downfall. “Unnecessary.” He registered her cautious, heedful obscurities - persistence in wariness was a wise decision while flickering in the midst of his lethal candor - he devoured so many that followed the beguiling, alluring shade of his heathen design, his slaughtering, executioner elegance; devil drawn near, singing in her ear. Minatory enticement dressed in Tartarean guile, fleshed and fueled for the chilling bite of shadow and snares. Hell laced his throat and stoked the condemnation of his resonance, prospered the piercing distortions of ravenous predilection, leading her to the corridors of corruption. “Follow.”