(390) Pfff now Machi's just being weird.
Machidael is by me!
Machi could only nod his head in agreement with Amaury. The piebald canine seemed rather of a mind with Machidael himself, although the rust-hued canine could not quite tell: they were, after all, speaking entirely different languages. Or would be, anyway, if both were communicating in their mother tongues. The jackal also suspected Amaury's upbringing, while on the same continent as himself, had been entirely different from what Machidael had grown up with.
The dust-colored hybrid grinned broadly, however, with the man's assent, and clapped his hands together as if delighted by the prospect of brother-lovers. Mine brother -- mine. Someday, the jackal said, laboriously. It was important to express this sentiment right: his own brother would be his someday to dominate and make his own. By looking at the pair, it was not entirely clear who was the master. Machi was not used to relationships where members were on an equal footing with one another. He had been master of his own home, his wife subservient to him. When she had broken that pact, it had been his right -- so he thought, anyway -- to kill her.
His cherry-bright eyes remained fixed on the pair, and his typical grin remained slouched across his muzzle, a slanted and crooked thing that seemed half sheer joy, half sheer madness.
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