She held his gaze, and for that he eased her some owed merit. Many, even back in his own time, had found his gaze disconcerting for it's apathy, for it's similarity to the foggy gaze of a corpse. However he maintained his gaze with hers, as unwilling to look away as she was, though it was far easier to hold her own blue gaze, even if it rang of a similar yet lesser hollowness to his own. However, at last and at length she spoke, surrendering to his demand and stating her intentions shortly. He did not bother to hide his interest in the sharp prick of his ears, in the faint stir of brightness in his void eyes, the slight raise of his head as she extended her offer of home and hearth to him. Yet then...
He laughed, mirthless and sharp, a shattered crystal sound that was barely loud enough to be called a laugh yet rung of humorless amusement and carried on the wind to her. "Thou think I bear the banner of a warrior?" He mocked, walking towards her with grace he did not feel, without the stiffness of his wounds he had shut down the pain on. "Thou doth believe, from a single spar, I harken to the call of war?" He would, if he needed to, but with that resounding hollowness in his chest came a wave of bitterness at the thought of partaking in further battle, of feeling that emptiness at his side and in his heart. He came to a stop before her, ghastly eyes flat as the grave and never once leaving her own. She thought him a warrior... he could laugh further over it, but as swiftly as it came his bitter laughter vanished before he had even moved towards her.
"Thou offer thine home knowing nothing of who I doth be, of what I align to. I applaud thine determination, thine skill, but thou should'st be more cautious of whom thou offer sanctuary to." He warned. Why, he didn't know. It served him nothing to give her such warning, such glimpses of the shadowed raven beneath Vasher's mask. Perhaps he was simply curious as to what she would do with such faint signs, such a bitter foreshadowing. "Alas, I fear thou art but a day late. I come this way to pledge mine services to Denocte and the Night King." He flicked an ear, gaze still locked to hers, impassive and emotionless yet somehow amused. "If thou art from Solterra... I fear we shalt meet as foe once more."
For some reason, it intrigued him to see how this mare rose to his baiting. He did not fear her physically, not with such a glaring injury like hers; if she attacked, he would simply cripple her and continue along his path once more with nary a care for her screams. He was far more interested in seeing if this mare would show skill aside from battle.
I am the villain of this story
What else could i ever be?
What else could i ever be?
MUSONART
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