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I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask Until this point, the hound of hell had been wary of these two strangers. He had hoped they would flee after seeing his master's state, his madness and his broken mind, especially one so young as this filly; but she and her dragon remain, the tension in the air growing thicker and thicker until Talbot was certain he might suffocate. A plume of smoke erupts from the crimson reptile's nares, the heat of it causing the smaller branches of the tree to burn and hiss as they are set ablaze, only to fall away and down into the snow just feet away from where the hound stood. His lips drew back further and from his throat comes forth a deep, baritone snarl directing not at the filly, but at the dragon in warning. 'Leave,' his mind asks, pleads, begs as though the dragon can hear him, but alas, he cannot. Talbot can only wish, hope, pray that this encounter wouldn't turn as ugly as it was beginning to look. Please. But on this day, Talbot's wish would not be heard. A deep, exasperated scowl tugged at the dark corners of the stud's lips as the girl's words bit into him. What insolence! What impertinence! Those words were a challenge ringing within his ears, a challenge that had to be met, one where he would assure that he arose from with victory. With little more warning than the taunt, downwards tug of his mouth, the brindle charges forward at the death child with his head lowered, gnarled, twisted dual horns pointed skywards and coming at her much like a ram. Coming head-on, he intended to plough straight into her young, immature body and bring her down, to harm her, to kill her and just make her shut up. "Talk talk talk" I want to exorcise the demons from your past
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
