I'm not a baby, he protests, and she lifts a sardonic brow. "I beg to differ." Big words for such a little girl. Ker ceases her flailing and instead politely and hopefully asks Oizys if she can peck the boy's eyes out. No, is the gargoyle's blunt reply, so forcefully it almost knocks the chick off her back, to which the eaglet drops a thousand ":( :(" into her mind. Oizys isn't quite sure why she rejects the very appealing idea - probably because Ker's inability to fly would make eye-pecking rather difficult. Maybe when she's older...

Why did you ask? She shrugs, wishing the bone-marked little shit would just drop it and stop trying to tie her in knots - does it make him feel strong, to be able to outwit a tiny little child? There is no doubt that Oizys is not his intellectual equal - if she was older, she might have more of a chance of creating better comebacks. Alas, age is not on her side. "S'one of those questions that don't need an answer. A rhe...rhet...yeah, one of them." The word escapes her fledgling tongue, and she quickly gives up.

The insults get greater, but Oizys schools herself not to react. She won't give him the satisfaction, dammit. She focuses instead on that image from before - Father, bringing mayhem and agony onto the stupid little boy, and now she has an extra bit to add to her fantasy as well in the form of a fully-grown Ker pecking his eyes out. If she turns her full attention onto these pleasing images, it means she can overpower her rising temper, stifle her urge to strike...

It isn't foolproof, but it prevents her lunging into a battle she knows she wouldn't be able to win. Yet.

When he laughs, when he insults her parents - how fucking dare he - it pushes her newfound resolve to its limit. Her eyes blaze and one small hoof stomps onto the ground in irritation, but this, and her pinned ears, is the only sign of her annoyance. Again, she focuses on the image...Father's horn, in his flesh - he wouldn't go for the heart first, he'd drag it out, make it last; Ker's beak, my horns, torture from three sides... A sedate smile spreads across her face, and an ecstatic sigh drags away from her jaws.

She can't fight fire with fire - she's too young. But she can fight fire with ice, because what's more annoying than seeing your insults land on happy, smiling ears? "You really don't like me, do ya?" she wryly observes, tilting her head. Her voice is now devoid of anger - she has her lovely fantasy instead - and is calm, cold, unremarkable. It is a statement more than a question, but she is genuinely curious why he seems to hate her so much. Even as she speaks, she has her joyous little images in her head, wearing them like armour to deflect the blows he throws at her.