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08-27-2014, 12:54 PM
Her reply is not what he is hoping for. It is vague, unclear in that infuriating riddle-like way that he'd come to expect from the mongrel queen, but for all its unspoken half-truth it sounds like a rather decisive 'no' to him. An ear tick backward in the faintest trace of disappointment, the deep chest deflating as his last hope of someone to share a cause with disappear; he listen almost sulkily as she snap at his query only to immediately correct herself and almost, kind of, accept his offer. Was the thing she'd been robbed of such an important thing she wouldn't even tell him about it? Oh, Morir knew they weren't exactly soul-mate and best friend with one another, but he had thought there were more trust between them than this. A dark brow raised sardonically beneath the bony mask, likely unseen by the ivory vixen, and there was a slight bite to the voice as he spoke again. "How do you expect me to retrieve what was stolen if you can't tell me what it is? But fine, if you say so... I do confess myself surprised though, Sheba. If you know who the thief is, why isn't he dead already? Never in a lifetime would I have expected anyone to be able to succeed in running away from you..." The big head tilted in a mildly teasing manner, the long tail expressing amusement where it slithered lazily behind the muscular rump. "It sounds quite ineffective to have both of us running around chasing this guy though, and describing them to me isn't going to help much. Was that thing they took really so important that you can't live without it?" Morir couldn't understand it. His only possessions in this world were the things he carried on his self; the mask over the face, the green amulet that dangled from its antlers and the black feather that sat braided into the long mane. None of them were vital or even important; he'd be pissed if someone took them of course, but he couldn't think of anything that would make him chase after someone to get them back... The only thing he could imagine was finding the bastard to bash their head in - which, he had to admit, was fair enough. "Want me to kill them for you?" he thus asked, with the kind of casual tone that might comment on the weather; Morir looked decidedly eager as he asked too, the small grin just a wee bit too bloodthirsty. @[Sheba] So sorry for the wait "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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