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The Young is easily and thoroughly amused by what she is willing to sacrifice. She is a fool- as Knox's blue eyes lock with hers, Zsoka can feel this. The greedy child within the body of the stalwart hunter wants more and almost demands it, but when she agrees, he realizes there is little more he could want. Anything but "Murder? Why would I ever want that?"
Why would he want murder? He is just a child. Knox may stand before Aryel a killer, but Zsoka still plays in the light and chases creatures for sport rather than the hunt. He feels himself fade back into the complex woodwork of Knox's mind, his task complete. Knox emerges slowly from the shadows, rattled by the unfamiliar whispers of his ancestors. He is unsure if he would have made this deal, but, having been made, Zsoka's part of the bargain must be fulfilled. Knox, now in control of his own powerful figure, steps back into the thick yet drying grasses of the meadow. Manhattan rises to her feet, ready to leave at her master's command, and watches the scene before her unfold with her eyes narrowed and folded ears perked. With a sigh, Knox lets' the silver smoke sliver from his eyes and into the central gem of the amulet. It fills with the nebulous silver of his magic, blinded until such a time that the strange mare chooses to use it. But he charges it for no more than a spar- he will not give her the power to take someone's sight forever. Even in the dark, sorrowful heart he carries with him, there is some sense of cruelty.
The stallion bows his head, feeling an uncomfortable sensation burning within his breast. There is little more to say here, or to do. "Should you ever need me again, call upon me as Knox," he speaks lowly, sounding subdued and once again like himself. His tail lashes behind him as a signal, and as his body turns away from the mare Manhattan's does the same. In moments a cloak of light surrounds them and they wander beyond the fields.
...Almost as if they were never there.
KNOX and MANHATTAN
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