†"what, no bon mot? you are slipping, scar," words are spoken, shattering the silence. skull is twisted in virus direction, skimming the bonny beast before turning back 'ward the rising moon. "silent, silver is she. full of melencholy and death...kind of like you, my friend."†

†leisurely blood-toned gyrates, facing the other. tapered dial is thrusted in steed's direction, though retrived backwards once curved extention is stretched. scarlet tinted orbicals study virile before motivation is unleashed. mud shaded bytch truds aft, again hesitating before taking one more step toward the he, coming to an end a yard from mulibrute.†