Though you’ve softened your tone, you can tell that Morir is still a little irked at your outburst. The hint of sarcasm in his voice bursts forth into full bloom as he questions why the thief isn’t dead already, for “Never in a lifetime would I have expected anyone to be able to succeed in running away from you…” You snort, prickling at his prodding, yet unwilling to raise your voice again and risk annoying him further. “Not all of us have the pleasure of looming above the rest of the world,” you remind him, illustrating your point rather comically as you crane your neck just to speak at the empty sockets of his skull mask. “Besides,” you sniff, “He had a head start.”

Needless to say, you’re disappointed when he turns down your offer to search for the thief together. Not that it’s surprising, for you wasted your chance when you allowed your temper to get the better of you, but still…While his company would have been valuable, and his protection would have been irreplaceable. In your eyes, the stag navigates his surroundings so well that from a distance, it isn’t immediately apparent that he can’t see two inches in front of his face. Of course, you’re not afraid, but this body is less than battle-ready. With a giant like Morir by your side, nobody would come close enough to try to take advantage of the plodding old creature that you’ve been reduced to.

Meanwhile, Morir is evidently still curious as to what’s been stolen. “Was that thing they took really so important that you can’t live without it?” he asks slyly, empty sockets peering down at you. A terse laugh slips past your lips. “Oh, cherie, you don’t know the whole of it,” you mutter, casting a loathing glance at your own hollow ribs and unsightly patches of fuzz. Yet while you look, your companion has already moved on. “Want me to kill them for you?” he inquires lightly, a wicked grin spreading across his face. You freeze.

Admittedly, you’ve fantasized about this very scenario several times, mainly while wandering through the caves in the early days of your transformation as you muttered darkly to yourself. But to have your fantasy become an actual possibility? You imagine the hiss of flames dampened by blood, and in your head, you watch yourself stand over the thief, triumphant, every feature of your body—your own body—highlighted in the dying embers. The idea of revenge is intoxicating, indeed.

Yet everything comes with a price, and you’re not about to hire an assassin without an estimate of the cost. “When he gives it back, I’d like nothing more,” you murmur, “But what, mon coeur noir, do you ask in return?”

OOC: I’m just sitting here chuckling at the idea of Sheba trying to sic Morir on the god of the sun….don’t mind me xD