06-04-2009, 01:19 PM
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The brute sneered, watching her set aside the task at hand. Those black eyes watched only those of the female, unrelenting as he lay in silence. This thing was filled with arrogance—but such delusions were easily remedied. He could smell her anger clawing at the air, and yet, those paws of rage had been declawed and were useless against him. The brute tail shifted briefly, like a coiled snake. And indeed, even as he lay there, he was far from vulnerable. The Korean had, as his daughter, trained in those arts of war—it could be said that he had influenced Cwmfen in such a way as to create that martial creature. And he was in control of this situation, of his body and muscles, of his mind. He no longer required the controlling of his emotions, for they had long since been eliminated from his being. But emotion still lingered powerfully within that Dahlian thing, and it permeated through the air between them. Emotion would control the female thing because she could not control it.
There was a great silence before the thing decided to speak. That empty grin allowed a brief flash of teeth before it disappeared from that emotionless façade. "Love," the tenor voice sneered, "is the greatest of your delusions." As he spoke to her, the brute’s erected posture, even while laying, allowed him to look down at her over the bridge of his black maw. And as he spoke, it was almost as if he spoke not only to it but the entirety of the population within those lands. Of course, the words meant nothing. He dwelt only momentarily upon what she said about his mother. But he could recall her only vaguely. He did not love her. He had not loved anyone. Love was simply a word in which these things had placed a disgusting meaning, which meant that her mother had been delusional. And the colours of his coat—they were not colours but hues. It seemed as if knowledge was not becoming of this thing. "The truths of stories—those but exist in the minds of the teller. The truth of reality is right her before you." The sneer twitched at the corners of his lips.
And then it made the threat. The cold, grating laughter clawed at the air, mocking it. "What’s stopping you?" the quiet tenor soothed in challenge. "Even if you called the others to fight your fight, you’d be dead before they got here." There was a cold certainty in his words as those fathomless eyes watched the other. His maw twitched with the beginnings of that snarl, those jaws perpetually hungry. Death was a thing he had the power to give, and his mercy could allow life. He was like a god, and he did not hide his supposition from the world. He was above them, just as he was above her. And he could kill her easily. Or he could leave her for Cwmfen. It wasn’t safe for anyone here anymore.
The brute sneered, watching her set aside the task at hand. Those black eyes watched only those of the female, unrelenting as he lay in silence. This thing was filled with arrogance—but such delusions were easily remedied. He could smell her anger clawing at the air, and yet, those paws of rage had been declawed and were useless against him. The brute tail shifted briefly, like a coiled snake. And indeed, even as he lay there, he was far from vulnerable. The Korean had, as his daughter, trained in those arts of war—it could be said that he had influenced Cwmfen in such a way as to create that martial creature. And he was in control of this situation, of his body and muscles, of his mind. He no longer required the controlling of his emotions, for they had long since been eliminated from his being. But emotion still lingered powerfully within that Dahlian thing, and it permeated through the air between them. Emotion would control the female thing because she could not control it.
There was a great silence before the thing decided to speak. That empty grin allowed a brief flash of teeth before it disappeared from that emotionless façade. "Love," the tenor voice sneered, "is the greatest of your delusions." As he spoke to her, the brute’s erected posture, even while laying, allowed him to look down at her over the bridge of his black maw. And as he spoke, it was almost as if he spoke not only to it but the entirety of the population within those lands. Of course, the words meant nothing. He dwelt only momentarily upon what she said about his mother. But he could recall her only vaguely. He did not love her. He had not loved anyone. Love was simply a word in which these things had placed a disgusting meaning, which meant that her mother had been delusional. And the colours of his coat—they were not colours but hues. It seemed as if knowledge was not becoming of this thing. "The truths of stories—those but exist in the minds of the teller. The truth of reality is right her before you." The sneer twitched at the corners of his lips.
And then it made the threat. The cold, grating laughter clawed at the air, mocking it. "What’s stopping you?" the quiet tenor soothed in challenge. "Even if you called the others to fight your fight, you’d be dead before they got here." There was a cold certainty in his words as those fathomless eyes watched the other. His maw twitched with the beginnings of that snarl, those jaws perpetually hungry. Death was a thing he had the power to give, and his mercy could allow life. He was like a god, and he did not hide his supposition from the world. He was above them, just as he was above her. And he could kill her easily. Or he could leave her for Cwmfen. It wasn’t safe for anyone here anymore.