ENGINEERS CREATE THAT WHICH HAS NEVER BEEN

Metal jaws snapped as the creature's gaze seemed to instantly be placed on the tiny creature upon the mare's back. The articulated, metal tail swung back and forth, and Ulrik stomped his hoof down authoritatively. With a respectful bow, the metal cat returned to its more dormant state. Bronze eyes spied the sly grin on her lips, and Ulrik raised a brow, listening objectively to her question. "At one point, a weapon. Now, scrap metal." Not a hint of remorse or nostalgia laced his words, only cold, hard fact.

Ulrik's keen gaze studied her face as if reading a text on quantum mechanics - with detail. She seemed surprised, then concerned. Why? He narrowed his gaze slightly as if thinning his focus would allow him to peer deeper into her soul. From the magnitude of her emotional response, her verbal one barely scratched the surface of his curiosity. "I noticed as much from the mark on your shoulder," he explained, inadvertently telling her how he knew about her relations with the God of the Earth. Why was she so nervous? Suddenly her hooves seemed to want to run out of the cave on their own accord.

The tiara upon her brow was oddly innocent, a stark contrast to the knowledge and secrets hidden behind her emerald gaze. Then, she shook her mane and the strong scent of flowers moved through his nostrils like a narcotic. "My power is the child of the Goddess of the Moon's darkness and the God of the Earth's organic focus. I understand the importance the God of the Earth plays in our lives." He supposed the God of the Sun was important as well, but nothing that needed the sun could not be synthesized - or so he thought.

Perhaps the greatest redeeming quality he possessed (in her eyes perhaps), was that Ulrik, though intelligent and dark, was brutally honest and held no secrets. He was not a creature to scheme, entrap or manipulate. The bronzed stallion much preferred to gather an army of machines to back his brute force; his words were much the same - plain, generalized and harshly honest.

Flowers, the gentle scent of flowers drew him in, and his cloven hooves stepped closer. The realization of his superior stature hit him once more, and he mused that, should the fancy strike him, he could most likely crush her (though he did not doubt her speed or willpower). "You are hiding something," he commented flatly. "I do not pry. If you want to speak, speak. If not, my ears are open at a later date." Nervousness was a telltale sign of a lie; he had learned to read them all well, as his family were chronic liars. The lie did not bother him, nor the hiding. What bothered him was the need to lie itself, the fact that others would take advantage of such information dishonorably.

"Your commitment to the Earth God is commendable. I do not understand it, but it is commendable."