_{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?

An edge creeps into her voice—is the nameless filly angry with Reginald? Does she see his amusement? The dark prince decides not to hide it anymore; it’s a soft smirk that raises his lip, slight and cold in the twist of it, but he is well entertained by this foolish little girl and her presumptuous, confident scorn. Her words sought to chastise the grey-eyed colt, and it threatens laughter to escape from his maw—but not quite, for his laughter is reserved for other things. He lets her heated, misguided words slide, for he isn’t here to teach.

The interest remains in his iris, however, and his steely gaze continues to scrutinize her emerald eyes, the fall in the lines of her face. He hears her breaking voice—will she cry again? Eagerness lurches in his breast, and he’s suddenly excited to see her weep once more. Could he make her cry? The idea enthralls him, even as the filly calls herself ‘hideous’. “You don’t like the way you look?” he asks, and though he smiles that awful, taunting smirk of his, it’s a sincere question. He knows full well the flames of self-loathing, the crushing, bitter disappointment in possessing a body that refuses to bend to your spiritual will. In this, he understands her pain—her anger—her frustration. It is the fixation with appearance that baffles him, for it is alien to him; he has always looked amazing, even if he never felt as such. All of those in his life have been well pleased with their appearance—or rather their appearance never mattered much in the scope of utility.

“Would you be happy if you were beautiful?” Again, he takes a step toward her, unafraid in his proximity. It’s true he thinks her ugly, but he spares little towards the opinion; he sees truth, and that is all he wishes to see. What does she yearn to see? How can she see it with eyes flooded with salt and water? He wonders how strong her hope is, how brittle it might be; he wonders if it billows in her chest and lights her path with radiance that guides her steps. Would it devastate her for her hope to be crushed?


"talk talk talk"