<font face="Georgia" size=1 color=darkred>LET ME RIP OUT YOUR HEART AND EAT IT</font> -- The Pasture

Nosferatu continued to laugh cruelly to himself in that seemingly insane-like manner, eyes that were like the deadly mixture of blood and acid narrowed to slits within chambers, the mocking gaze of complete and utter hatred remaining locked upon the chestnut lamia's - regretably undeniable - attractive physique. That same lop-sided, haughty smirk remained plastered upon the demonically handsome facade, and he cracked the charred whip against muscle-laden haunches, the savage skull flung arrogantly atop long and muscled neck as quickly-lengthening, blackened tendrils were sent flying in a frenzy about dashing features, before they cascaded down o'er stalwart shoulder yet again. Watching Morse react to his last words, it was then that he realized that he had struck a nerve, and when she began speaking viciously between half-visable, gritted fangs, he merely stared at her in silence, an emotionless mask replacing the haughty expression he wore earlier, his hind remaining caulked, as if he couldn't care less.

"I hate to be the one to inform you that, being nothing more than an "idiot mortal" - no matter how much I hate it - has absolutely nothing to do with it. How do you know they didn't take their own lives? If I can recall correctly, you weren't exactly there when the pair met their deaths, now were you?"

The deepening chords were spoken calmly despite their mocking air, completely appropriate when coupled with the emotionless look he still insisted on wearing. And as the filly's next wave of speech came, her face now mere inches from his own, he spoke yet again, blood-red ooids gazing into her own light blue orbs, though his reflected hatred as well as annoyance - he could tell that hers - though showing definite anger - were actually starting to portray a hint of being hurt...

"Why not? It sure as hell didn't stop you from taking everything from me. My parents simply can't get enough of you - you're like the damned daughter they never had..."

He snorted sharply after this, the last syllable about his parents taking on a venomous tone, an air of envy mixed with animosity. Once again, crimson optics narrow to slits within chambers, and a barely audible growl rumbles up from decayed larynx, serrated enamels bared slightly as ashen labrums peel backward in a snarl - regretably, his canines were not needle-like, lengthened fangs, such as the ones Morse was portraying to him right now - however, he liked to think that he could still look quite threatening when he wanted to.

NOSFERATU
HELL-SPAWNED COLT
ARABIAN/FRIESIAN MUTT
STAINED OF BLOOD AND MIDNIGHT
ONE AND A HALF YEARS OLD
UNDETERMINED HEIGHT
REVEILLE X FLAMES O' HELL

Subject	Author	Date
[ dark mark ]	[ morsemordre ]	21:31:29 08/01/05 Mon
OOC -- Sam, 22:11:49 08/01/05 Mon