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12-28-2012, 10:49 PM
As they spoke, the weather was ever so slowly fading into the background, hardly noticeable except for when a bolt of lightning strayed too close for comfort. But Crowley was unmoving, his feet planted firmly as he tossed his bantering back and forth with his lovely company. There it was; that reaction he had been so desperately looking for. His expression never changed, even when Aryel whipped around to face him, looking the epitome of pissed. His lips pursed to hold back a fit of laughter as she recited quite perfectly his words spoken in the Threshold, which he was sure that even he couldn't remember with such clarity. But, finally, he was unable to hold it back any longer, and the laughter came spewing forth. "My, my!" He spoke up with obvious amusement, "I must say, you must have something going for me if you remember that well... Since I doubt you're one of those eidetic types." When he had calmed, the brindled stallion took in a deep, long breath to settle himself before he focused back on the blue of Aryel's eyes, that smug look returning yet again to his features. "Oh, featherbrain... I said nothing of my own racism; there's no denying that I am, I'm not afraid to admit it. Only a fool would say otherwise. But you," he said, regarding the pegasus with an uncertain look, "You think those silly wings are better than the horns I bear upon my head? Honey, you're merely copying the birds! They were here first, you know." Of course, it was likely that Aryel would simply throw the question back at him, but he was expecting it, ready for it. |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
