Mordred was not pleased with this turn of events. He probably regretted not asking like he wanted to. But he would never defy me, even if it meant getting pinned down by an ugly vulture who was not at all pleased with his intrusion. A pitiful cry escaped his yellow beak, causing me to roll my eyes and come close to the trio with distaste. Her words reached my ears, and without another thought I tossed my head dismissively, eyeing her with my silver orbs and lashing back simply,"He will once your creature releases him. He may be pitiful but he isn't stupid enough to move with talons at his throat. Be at ease, I want nothing to do with your carcass, Mordred simply needed a snack. I find the action of killing something to be much more appealing than the left over mess." I eyed the elk calmly, studying it's ripped apart flesh and glazed eyes, the sight not gross to me, but not necessarily interesting either. I tended to make less of a mess when making a kill, and that's how it should be done in my opinion. Simple and clean.

Perhaps her kill had been the same, but her ugly bird had changed that immediately, the tendons and organs revealed to the world, and I wondered just what the filly intended to do with all of it. Would she kick it to the side for the wolves to feast upon? Or did she have a sick fetish for hoarding corpses. I couldn't help but let myself grow more and more intrigued. With a swish of my ombre tail I studied her silently, silver expression flitting between her and her prize silently, waiting patiently for my bird to come back to me. Once he managed to be released from the raptor's hold he screeched at me, crying like a lost child and digging into my shoulders with his talons. I hissed my displeasure, eyeing him with daggers in warning, and once he was settled he simply curled up into my mane, preening the strands lovingly so as to comfort himself. He had been traumatized enough for the day, and thus refused to leave his spot. Not that I minded, what much else was there to do anyway.

"What do you plan on doing with that thing anyway?" I asked before I could stop myself, because since when did I care about what this bitch thought of me? Although I couldn't help but find her dark, stone coat to be rather familiar. The rest of her was foreign though; the bright blue eyes and that disgusting leonine tail, all of it screaming plain unicorn and damn that was boring. Didn't she wish for something more? Surely she didn't find herself to be beautiful, not with those ugly wiggly horns poking out of her head like fucking corkscrews. Well whatever, I just felt bad for whomever had to raise her from a babe. I wonder if they were proud of her; especially with those ugly scars that adorned her dark complexion. Bet she had a fucked up childhood. Parents could be crazy. Except for Father, there was nothing wrong with Father. Nothing could tell me otherwise.

 

 "Speak"

 

 
 Merlin
 I'm a zombie with no notion of regret