.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
11-16-2013, 11:27 PM
As Hecate begins to circle, he stands as a distraction, his stare cold and piercing. He scoffs at the stallion's pathetic attempts at warding them away, tail flicking in irritation. "I am sorry but you will have to dine on your own dick before I let you even take a bite out of me." Hysteria bubbles over into deep, abrasive laughter. "Oh, but why would I when there is a perfectly good one standing right in front of me," he taunts. The reaper's ears scoop forward to catch the gritty voice of his sister, then swiftly press back onto the crest of his neck. "It has a point."
Helleborr doesn't take her as the gullible type, but he is beginning to rethink that assessment. "Sister, are you really so impressionable?" His voice is almost mocking as he queries her, venom spewing from his lips as split hooves carry him closer to the man who seems to have appealed to his sister's 'better' nature. "Do you not see what he is doing? He is tricking you, Hecate." His gaze alternates from the pale woman to the black-white stallion, his eyes aglitter with cold accusation as he regards his twin, aggravated that these meals very rarely ever come easy.
"You living are all the same." His words are so very ironic, for is he not living as well? Does Helleborr truly think himself the reaper? -is he truly that delusional? Well, yes. In some ways, he is, but what else can you expect from a kid who literally crawled his way out of a corpse's womb, only to be greeted by a world infested by the shadows of the dead? You would think yourself a member of the undead, as well.
His milky blue eyes bore deep into the man's own, snout dipped and the jagged cusp of his horns pointing toward his intended victim. "You are all clinging on so desperately for one last moment of life. But sooner or later, you always slip." Driven mad by hunger his muscles flinch, stiffen, and bunch, propelling his large body forward with teeth bared and forelimbs extended, sharp, cloven hooves and lethal jaws seeking out the stallion's yet unwounded flesh with vehement intent, coming toward his front-right breast.
@[Vulture] & @[Hecate]
