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The young is surprisingly composed as he stands before her, but for some reason it is when she calls him a bastard that his temper ignites. Perhaps the hunter's own burning loyalty to the sentinel is what feeds the fire, or perhaps another mind simply rejects her lack of manners. Whatever the reason, he struggles somewhat to keep his cool. The child's foreleg shakes with impatience, and his teeth press together tightly. Manhattan's hackles raise, but at her master's insistence her teeth remain hidden beneath her black lips. "Do not call a child a bastard, Adrixaura; You never know where his father might be," Knox said cooly in Zsoka's innocent voice, letting an expression of brief remorse flicker across his features. Perhaps she would pity the colt Zsoka before he faded away. "I do not see your child's father looking for you, after all. Perhaps, if you cannot see the dangers of the wilds as a threat to your child, you can consider instead the benefits of it growing up with a herd and family. You may be strong, I do not doubt that in the slightest, but a child raised in solitude is a child raised without an understanding of the dangers or kindnesses of others that is hard to learn later in life." The colt spoke from experience that he only hoped she might detect.
She is unimpressed, this is evident. Clearly his ploy has not worked; but this is fine. He has expected that, in some measure, he will have to adjust. So when she calls for something that might tempt her, Huric willingly steps forward. He is handsome and cordial, calm and predictable. There is nothing more straightforward than predictability; nothing more honest than that which is expected.
"Do not think this a trick, for I will explain," he warns her first. And then, exercising the power he newly possesses, his features shuffle quickly like a deck of cards until his body morphs into that of handsome Huric the martyr. Standing taller, Knox levels his gaze with Adrixaura's. Huric's deep pink eyes catch her gaze with sincerity; his long, silken tail catches in the noontime wind. "I am not the only one in this land that possesses magic, but I am one of the few so willing to share with you its capabilities. Showing you what I can do..." he begins, flickering through faint images of his other ancestors as he speakes, allowing his voice to shift tones and take on different hues, "...that is a gesture of trust. I would like for you to place that same trust in me; to understand that I mean only the best for you and your child." His magic settles upon Huric once more, who sports the tight, red brown bridle and firm muscles of a Old Country soldier. He has so much potential, Anaan thinks sadly. He has so much left to show the world, thinks Janos with passion.
The rose-grey gentleman stands firm before the pregnant mare and strong beside his own companion, who has since settled and let herself be soothed by Huric's easeful thoughts. "The assassins want you and your child only to build their numbers; they know nothing of loyalty. Here in The Grey, your child could be taught to be strong and capable, among warriors who care for both of you like family. I was raised outside their kindness, but have come now to consider it my own." Knox's thoughts are put to good use in the capable mind of Huric, who shapes each word diplomatically. "Do not be so quick to judge, and do not be so hasty to turn from an opportunity that can change your life, and the life of your child, for the better," he concludes, doing what he can to remain calm in the face of her spat slurs and impatient fury.
She may not see it, but he is sincere. Something within Knox has stirred him to kindness. Is it the death of the stranger? Perhaps. Perhaps he feels that after having taken such a young and innocent life, he must better one yet to come. He cares less for Adrixaura and more for her child; he knows she is wicked and volatile, he can tell from the way that she carries herself and her acidic pattern of speech. Perhaps she is beyond saving, but her child may not be. Roanne has watched with shame as the child he thoughtlessly brought into this world was raised to kill and forget his heart. Now, the sentinel counts himself among the ancestors that support so wholeheartedly this endeavor. Mandrake may be gone, but her lessons are not. She has taken Knox and ruined him, that, Roanne will never forget.
[[I love Adrixaura's character, fyi. She's super interesting/intense.]]
KNOX and MANHATTAN
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[O] Evil Souls Fall To Hell, Ever Trapped In Burning Cells [Knox / Open]
