Zhu is a tough to please crowd (give it time, soon enough I'll get to him), with his stoic being and scattered vocabulary— his silence bothers me. It's utter silence in response to everything I say. It's gonna take more than a few shitty jokes to get something from him (unfortunately). As someone who seeks every little twitch of muscle, every subtle change in expression, he's like an impossible puzzle that I struggle to solve. I want a reaction, an action, a response— anything. But he gives me nothing, nothing but subtle arches in the brow as my words echo around that empty head of his (seriously, is there anything in there?), and it makes me want to push harder (I'll make him crack eventually). I smile playfully, looking him over— wanting envious  of his bulk, his brawn that mimics those of a flow blown warrior than my own physique does. It's what I hope to achieve (what I need, in more ways than one)— one half of my goal (versatility in both espionage and battle, a luxury).

"Aren't you a tough nut to crack," I hum, looking at the bone bearing boy with a wide grin over my macabre features (why am I so oblivious). I give a ginger step closer, trying to focus more on the details of his being (those shiny ass horns), bubblegum settling on the furious tail that dances and twitches irritably at his ankles. Is it from annoyance? Maybe nervousness, irritation? My eyes linger on the bicoloured appendage for far too long, watching it flick back and forth in an erratic series of movements. I'm sure now (as I wasn't before), but the tail is fully controlled by its bearer— I wasn't quite sure with the last lion tailed equine I'd met (that salt filled filly), but I'm sure of it now. How interesting.

My smile fades as the ghastly cervine lets out the most hideous scream, an unreal call that in no way resembles an actual deer (like seriously what the fuck). My brows knit as I look at the shape shifter, a lip twitching in frustration at its constant wail (will it shut up). "How do you turn this thing off?!" I shout at Zhu (a totally pointless attempt), turning to the younger taller boy with utter horror— do companions normally screech wretchedly at random?

But no, Hobgoblin is not absolutely crazy and screaming for no reason other than to be an asshole— a shimmering golden similar to my crown catches my eye, head craning to observe the two flighted reptiles that move gracefully through the air, streamlined and precise in their movements. For a moment I'm caught up in the admiration of their appearance, perfect and everything I desire (almost everything)— but their colours tear me from my admiration in an unruly fashion (shit). There's two— dazzling gold and fierce red that make the hairs on my spine tingle with a mess of emotion. I hear aunt Nym's words flooding through my head, vivid memories of her explanation on who this particular duo belonged to— the master of the golden queen and crimson warrior, the devil draped in midnight and emotion.

My face falls slack, cotton candy eyes widening to three times their size as in the dragons' wake comes a titan in black— towering far above Zhu and I, standing on pillars of ivory and onyx. No, no no NO WAY. As much as I want to keep my attention focused on everything else happening around me (Zhu, Hobgoblin, annoying birds creating horrific background music to Hobgoblin's screaming), I can't draw my attention from the mass before me. Of all times to show up, it has to be now— just when I think I'm (not at all) getting somewhere with Zhu (what a big shitty cockblocker of a father I have, like couldn't he have waited?).

There's so much happening all at once, so many feelings welling up beneath my blood splattered breast that I cannot even begin to form words as the man Volterra addresses Zhu— how does he know him? I'm pulled in ninety different directions all at once, feeling all too much at once. There's fear, fear because here he is, the man that I have heard of only in snippets spoken from others (Nymeria, the Mountain, Mother on occasion). And shock, because here he is, this is truly the man I have heard of (the fool with his heart on his sleeve, the brawn to Nymeria's brain, the other half guilty of my creation)— it's unbelievable that he would show his face now of all times, at this random time on this random day (what are the chances?).

But most of all, anger.

How dare he show his face to me (me, not even Sabre and I)— to not even address me, in fact he doesn't even know me. My ears swing back and my expression sours only subtly, heart beating at my breast with absolute savage fury. It's just a chance encounter, it's not like he was looking for me (right?)— he probably had no clue I existed up until now (and he's probably convinced that I'm just some kid, some friend of Zhu's). I look up at the ruby encrusted ivory, breathing unsteadily as I gaze into his eyes— I can see the resemblance between him and Nymeria, but he is certainly much heavier that she is, with feathered hooves and a thicker barrel and a towering stance— I feel like he considers me nothing but a friend to Zhu.

What a way to meet your dad, huh? I smile endearingly at the dumb brute, trying my hardest to be as innocent and sweet as I can with my words (even though I'm salty as fuck) "Well, look who finally decided to show his ugly mug face." I bat my lashes in false innocence, soft smile spreading over my mismatched lips. "Where have you been all these months?" Balls deep in any mare willing? I give him a few moments to recollect himself (because I'm sure this is all a surprise to his oblivious ass) before I get at him again, relishing in the fact that I'm bashing him before his son and dragons, hoping that they find this just as amusing as I do (he deserves it). "Really, you should be getting a father of the year award! You really quite deserve it, I mean— you've been so wonderful at raising my sister and I." The sarcasm grows, venomous rage dripping carelessly from my lips as I look the feathered stallion up and down with absolute indifference in my expression.

I wasn't an idiot, and the term apa (used by Zhu) does not fool me— what does it sound like? Pa. My stomach twists with guilt and sickening disgust (I still like him, why? What's wrong with me?) as I gaze upon who I should now title my half brother. Younger, at that— I knew he was younger even though it may not be physically apparent (it was a few months ago), the boy to which I have become permanently infatuated with. I live for this moment, for wrenching him off his pedestal as 'first born' (but gently, can't bruise those perfect buns)— how good it feels to finally be the first, the unrealized excellence produced from such a blasphemous idiot. "Thanks for the intro, but I could've done it myself." I snap at Zhu, ears pinned in an agitated display, furious that he just stole my thunder.

"So I'm guessing Nymeria didn't tell you about me or Sabre?" I'm not blaming Nymeria, I'm sure it's hard tracking down your shit brained womb mate to tell him about his little fuck ups. She probably just gave up, unbothered to confess that his actions had consequences. "And yeah— there's two. You got the full package deal, congratulations! You're eight months too late!" I drop the innocent facade, now just looking one hundred and ten percent d-o-n-e. I'm sure to regret this later, but for now I'll take what I can get and enjoy it. I glance at Zhu, giving him a brief smile to show that I was taking care of the situation and he can shut his trap (which never opens anyway), and let the big Kid handle it. "So where do I sign up to be daddy's favourite?"