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Ithiel is by Raze!
The dusky hybrid shook his head in response to her statement about being unwanted. It was not that her presence was not unwanted -- but he was truly perplexed and shamed by the things he'd felt. Like the thoughts of the coyote Alma had left to wander in the city, he found his last meeting with Willam, too, perseverating in his mind. And yet, despite this perverse insistence in his mind, Ithiel was a creature of near-infinite self-control. His impulses, expressions, and interactions could be scrubbed clean of any of these influences -- but biology was biology, and he could not stave off that physical reaction. This was his only fear, but even that was not so all-consuming as to control him. The Duplicarius was confident in his ability to retain face and keep from shaming himself or Willam.
Serve Inferni well, and it's all the thanks I need, he said. Though the words themselves were gruff, his tone was almost kindly: this was a simple truth for Ithiel. He had admitted her to the clan, on his own judgement -- the only thing he could ask for was a satisfactory performance in Inferni's ranks. And yet -- he did not think she needed to be told this. Her shared spirituality with him gave Ithiel over to believing her obedience and ability to follow command needed no reinforcement. Perhaps this was a friendly bias toward her, but she had also demonstrated loyalty -- at least to her beliefs -- in a rather deep way, too.
The bird had ceased to struggle, and seemed to have gone into a state of shock. There was little pity within Ithiel -- creatures such as this died each and every day, along with Luperci. They were not things to be mourned and wept over. Life was celebratory enough, and in death, the best he and the rest could hope for was that they'd accomplished something in life or some use might come from their death. With a nod, Ithiel twisted the animal's neck. It cracked softly beneath his fingers, and the animal gave a jerk, then went limp. You're right, he said, softly. Needless suffering should be ended, where possible. It would never have flown right. He kept his eyes steady with her face until he looked down at the bird.
Its feathers might be used for arrows, its flesh for food. It did not die completely in vain, at least, he said.
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