So the knowledge that weakness exists within herself makes her want to rip off her skin and tear out the Thing that has plagued her since her birth.

It affects her more in winter, this heart defect of hers. The Cough happens more when the weather is colder, as though the low temperatures nurture the disease that lurks within her heart. Debilitating coughing fits come upon her if she bends the wrong way, or moves too fast - she is revolted by herself, by her weakness. Father would be ashamed of her. She is his oldest and his finest progeny, and yet she is cursed with....with the Thing. It is her darkest secret. She'd hoped that it would clear as she aged, as Mother said it might, but it hasn't. She is over a year old now, and still she is condemned to mediocrity by a quirk of fate in the womb.

She resents her dam for it. After all, Nyx must have been the one to pass down such defective genetics. It certainly couldn't have come from Him, from Father, from the king of her world.

The gargoyle acts out, rages against the disease in her heart. With Ker by her side, she sets out on a path of anger-fuelled annihilation whenever the mood strikes her, ill-advised killing sprees that ensure Ker's belly fills with warm meat until she's so fat she can hardly fly. Oizys only wishes her digestive system didn't reject the flesh of the beasts she brings down, as she would dearly love to join her companion in feasting. There is no rhyme or reason to her wanton destruction of lesser creatures, save for the fact they are there, that they are whole and not plagued by the Thing like she is. It's wrong. They must suffer for what they are.

Today, her prey is a stag. He is so....healthy. He radiates power, raw strength and glory, a beast in the prime of his life. No, no, it is not acceptable. It is not allowed for others to be so whole of body whilst she is so broken. So she summons a massive bear made of spark, channeling her magic - magic which she's getting more and more control over each time she uses it - and sets it upon the unwitting stag. He doesn't stand a chance. Electricity surges through his system, crippling him, destroying him, until Oizys' triple horns skewer him through the throat and end his life.

Ker gives a joyous screech, and descends.

Blood cascades down the yearling's face as she disentangles herself from the crumpled remains of the stag. Ker is already perched on his muscular flank, head buried in his flesh. The spark bear has sizzled into nothingness, restoring some of the filly's lost strength. She feels no satisfaction at the kill, except for the knowledge that Father would be proud of her for taking down something so large. Save for the mare she helped him kill when she was a newborn, the stag is the biggest thing she's ever murdered. Odd how the Thing didn't strike then - she should be relieved, she supposes. Had her disease crippled her at that precise moment, the stag could have ended her life with a swift stab of his antlers or kick from his hooves.

Mulling over this unpleasant possibility, the filly stands over her kill. She'll allow Ker to eat her fill, then take a couple of mementos away to stash in her den in the Edge - the antlers, perhaps, maybe some of the pelt. She does this for each kill, gathering a collection of trinkets that tell a story of misery and murder. Pointless, but satisfying.

It occurs to the gargoyle that she should perhaps call her companion off, as she's not entirely sure attempting to scavenge some prey is a crime worthy of immediate death. But she's too pleased with Ker's sudden display of violence to be overly concerned about the unfortunate target of said violence - her eagle is usually far too passive, bordering on soft. It's good to see the Philippine showing a bit of spunk for once, demonstrating the fiery prowess that Oizys first sensed when she made the decision not to kill the fluffy, ugly hatching. Oizys doesn't do weak, and far too often Ker does not display the characteristics that the yearling would have selected in her bonded.

For the first time, her cold grey gaze travels to the small bird's mind-partner. It is another filly of a similar age to Oizys, and the gargoyle assesses her with frosty effectiveness. "You should order your companion away if you're inclined to keep it alive, she tells the other girl, her hybrid tail swinging around to thrash against her flanks as she distantly eyes the merlin's bonded. Her stone-grey form shifts closer to her kill, determined to keep it safe - there's so much of the impressive carcass she wants to pillage to add to her collection of trinkets.

Oizys rolls her eyes, disgusted at her bird's seeming inability to land the finishing blow. Fortunately for Ker, the other filly speaks then, imploring the grey yearling to release her companion. It means the eagle doesn't have to make a decision on what to do next; instead, she gratefully listens as Oizys bids her to stand down. It's rare for the gargoyle to show such mercy, but really, she's just killed a stag - taking another life today seems like overkill, no pun intended. Ker disentangles herself from the merlin and launches backwards, remaining fluffed up to confirm her dominance and eying the smaller bird with her finest avian contempt. The offending bird flutters back to his owner and leaves Ker alone to plunge her head back into the deer's carcass, ignoring the fact her stomach is already full and gorged with meat.

It intrigues her that the other child seems more interested in the kill than the carcass - Oizys is rather similar in that aspect, although she enjoys the shameless pillaging of the corpse as well. "The first thing you learn at bird of prey school is not to get between a raptor and her dinner. With her beak full of meat, Ker chirps her agreement. She doesn't think the merlin will make the same mistake again, however.

The other filly asks what Oizys plans to do with the carcass, and the grey learning looks down at it with almost loving affection in her gaze. "The antlers will adorn my den, the flesh will feed my companion, the bones will make useful hilts for future weapons, and the pelt will provide insulation against the cold." Plus she just loves murder, and what? "Have you taken a life before?" Somehow she doubts it. This poor unfortunate does not have the mighty Reginald as a sire; a man who taught his daughter to hunt almost as soon as she could walk.