𝐯𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖗

     ❛   I thought your kind died off with your master.   ❜     

           closed starter      @scourgeprince·

                    ❛ Does it scorn you——what's been  done?  Does                     it leave you aching with un-fulfillment, ravaged by                     animosity? Does it challenge  your  natural  place                     in this world? ❟

His questions were as quick as arrowfire, no pause for reflection left on purpose. Whatever malice had corrupted him upon his first death had not dissipated by the third; he was egging the other. Creatures of kin, whether they acknowledged it or not, they were. It was his duty then, a Prince still, to weave his way beneath the other's flesh, like an eager needle, and stitch up whatever remnants he could find. Had this one been loyal? He couldn't remember the face. Was it he who had been scrambled then? Or was this one truly a deserter? Too many questions. He was going to seem suspicious.

It would be the same now, for he was above the idea of relenting. He had lived to die thrice over and there was absolutely no fear, no struggle to fight the balance between life and death; his presence alone already walked that line. This would be a slow burn, the work that they did, and he was in no rush. Patience would be the key to preserving their art.

He was clever enough now to know that assembly with the king would do him no good but his daughter? Perhaps another story. There was a wide grin behind the more conservative fabric that covered the lower half of his face as he greeted her. He looked more roguish than anything, stark-white hair pulled back into a high, horse's tail, cloth garments draped about him. The only strangeness about his appearance was his large, bat-like ears and the pallid skin tone. The hidden smile would meet his eyes as he lied a charming greeting.

                    ❛  M'Lady Princess, I am humbled by your council. ❟

The echo of a chuckle shook his entire frame at her question before his actions settled with a slow shaking of his head in the negative. 

                 ❛ Dear thing—— such a question is so terribly                      intrusive. Do you wish for them to  think  you a                      churlish   meddler?    No——  of   course    not.                      You’re     so      much     more     than    that.    ❟

A full-bodied mockery of a sigh had him slumping his weight upon one hip, eyebrow quirking in an almost conceding expression. 

                      ❛  And what do you gain by prying, hm? One in                   a  position   such  as   mine   has   no   needs.  ❟ 

This, of course, is a lie, for the Prince is constantly walking the line of desperation for sustenance gained only through endless murder. There is no game involved, not with him, but such weakness, the side effect of a beautiful gift, is not one to disclose to the masses, and certainly not this stranger.