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The group is complete with the arrival of Kahlua, the equine mare he met in the Threshold. He allows his leering, lazy gaze to rove across her body, noting every sumptous curve of her form - she would make a fine addition to the Regime. He only drags his lustful gaze from her when the hybrid creature speaks, and his ears lace into his tangled mane as the creature addresses him by name. Perhaps he really is a god, he muses. He isn't intentionally speaking to Cynder, but she responds anyway - Has horns, not god, she says, her childish voice a solemn reminder of quite what Tyradon thinks of hybrid scum. The god threatens him, and the hellion's steel gaze flashes with contained rage. I'd like to see them try, he itches to shout - he bites back his sharp retort with difficulty.
He is not a fool, to anger the gods. But nor is he a craven coward, to bite his tongue for fear of retribution. "Where are these other vengeful gods, then?" he rumbles, deafening voice pouring free from clenched yellow teeth. His tones are neutral, but his silver gaze still flashes. The creature asks of weakness of character, and the hellhound quirks a scarred brow. That is obvious - the fact Helovia is infected, with the horned and winged abominations. Tyradon would truly be unsurprised if they were the reason for the darkness. A pegasus stallion speaks, and the beast wrinkles a lip - he thinks resentment is a weakness? Damned fool. "You are wrong," he declares, baritone voice cold and punctuated by Cynder's low growl. "Weakness is how barely any Helovians are willing to grasp power with both hands - they are content to leave the hard work to others, to simply follow. They are not proactive - that is why the darkness could take control, because none had the balls to prevent it." Had Tyradon entered Helovia a few months earlier, he would have been the first to find a way to destroy the darkness, because he is not the sort to sit idly by and watch as others do the dirty work. "This will not be overcome by seeking peace, by gathering round a fire singing kumbaya. Only idealists think peace is possible through words - only naiive idealists think it can be achieved through anything other than blood and sweat. Helovia is devoid of true leaders, of those with the conviction to fight for what they believe in - that is our weakness, God." He speaks with the conviction and passion of a man who believes what he says; who sees it as gospel. |
[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
