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"Are you planning on moving sometime this year?" The voice sounded dry and slightly humorous as it drifted up from somewhere behind the hesitant stallion. It was a memorable voice, deep and dark like the very caverns themselves. It was comparable to dark chocolate, black velvet or maybe silk whispering over a sharpened blade... But though it would have seemed fitting, it spun no words of threat or deadly promise. Morir was in far too good a mood for that right now. He wouldn't have been able to say what exactly it was that brightened the spirits that particular day. Between his recent companions and the need to return below ground in order to find enough sustenance to keep his big body fit and strong there shouldn't have been much to laugh about. But perhaps the sensation of a full stomach and the promise of fresh air once this brute stopped blocking the entrance was more than enough to brighten anyones spirits. Big black cloves scraped impatiently over rocky surface as the skull-masked stag strained to keep himself still on the steep path. He felt a strong impulse to lower the crown of thorns and drive his horns up the ass of the horse in front of him, but contained the impulse; he didn't want crap on his weapons. Neither was the promise of a kick in the face very pleasant, a fate he might very well have to suffer should he act on any of the more interesting ideas that drifted through his mind at that moment. "In or out; decide already!" he just grunted instead and pushed closer, head lifted high - man was this guy big! - as he tried to shove his way past the broad ass, unconcerned about getting stuck between rocks and hard places. "I embrace the thorny rose to my chest and fall into the crimson sea I continue dancing upon the piled bodies until I die" |
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