[ Calm as his surface is (is maintained, with a delicate hand, like an expertly-crafted work of art — a play, an opera, a symphony, things he once composed in his mortal life — but just beneath are fissures, mustn't let them split open too much or else he'll be grinning as widely as the girl, and his teeth may not be sharpened points like an animal's, but his madness strikes as fast and as brutal—) .....he's alarmed, just so, when Millie demands offering from him. Brows lifted, eyes flashing downwards to his prickly little companion, he can't claim to know if she teases or if she speaks with severity, with her flip-flopping. He isn't afraid of her (fear doesn't exist in him for his fellow monsters; he welcomes them in with every ounce of his wretched being) — but he must admit to being very uncertain as to how the rules of her work, of how to handle a being like her.
Is he going to have to stave her off from actually trying to consume from him, or— No, no, she's quite moved on, though the knowledge that she craves flesh is met with an equal amount of stun. Edward stares at her with some mix of startle and wonder: a meat-eater, in the most ghastly sense. (Unless this is meant in some dark jest, although he cannot be certain that it is. It would make sense that the child with her predator's mouth and deathly hue and unnatural strength might feast on the human living.)
When she directs his attention to the bird, Edward stares mutely for a moment longer, as though lingering to see whether she means it or if she'll bark a laugh at him. There's a purse of his mouth; is this where his fate lies in this unholy unification? A servant to a child's demands? Yet he'll do it anyway, with only the softest huff beneath his breath. (Of course he will; he's been damnably loyal to the little devil since he first lay eyes on her.)
And he isn't even truly irritated by the demand, a faint glint of mirth in his eye as he vanishes abruptly, only to reappear just at the animal's location. He strikes in seconds, too quickly for it to even know he's there. He could snap its neck with a will of his mind, but he opts to stab the thing with the ornate dagger he pulls from his person — for the demon's bloodlust has only livened since Mordrake made connection with Millie Manx, the vile creature attached to him made excitable in the presence of Its own kind. The soul of an animal is nothing to what It really needs to satisfy some of that hunger, but it's something. A life taken with the cursed blade that Mordrake possesses is a hideous thing indeed — and the display of blood, the act of his own hand causing it, pleases the demon. It might exhibit some mercy for him as reward, a brief reprieve from its Hellish whispers.
The bird utters no sound, silenced before it can even react. Still, it's a more gory scene than it had to be, and Edward winces as he pulls the dagger from its large body and reappears at the girl's side. Delicately, fingers pinching it by one bloody wing so as not to get mess on his glove more than is necessary, he holds the limp thing out to her. ]
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Is he going to have to stave her off from actually trying to consume from him, or— No, no, she's quite moved on, though the knowledge that she craves flesh is met with an equal amount of stun. Edward stares at her with some mix of startle and wonder: a meat-eater, in the most ghastly sense. (Unless this is meant in some dark jest, although he cannot be certain that it is. It would make sense that the child with her predator's mouth and deathly hue and unnatural strength might feast on the human living.)
When she directs his attention to the bird, Edward stares mutely for a moment longer, as though lingering to see whether she means it or if she'll bark a laugh at him. There's a purse of his mouth; is this where his fate lies in this unholy unification? A servant to a child's demands? Yet he'll do it anyway, with only the softest huff beneath his breath. (Of course he will; he's been damnably loyal to the little devil since he first lay eyes on her.)
And he isn't even truly irritated by the demand, a faint glint of mirth in his eye as he vanishes abruptly, only to reappear just at the animal's location. He strikes in seconds, too quickly for it to even know he's there. He could snap its neck with a will of his mind, but he opts to stab the thing with the ornate dagger he pulls from his person — for the demon's bloodlust has only livened since Mordrake made connection with Millie Manx, the vile creature attached to him made excitable in the presence of Its own kind. The soul of an animal is nothing to what It really needs to satisfy some of that hunger, but it's something. A life taken with the cursed blade that Mordrake possesses is a hideous thing indeed — and the display of blood, the act of his own hand causing it, pleases the demon. It might exhibit some mercy for him as reward, a brief reprieve from its Hellish whispers.
The bird utters no sound, silenced before it can even react. Still, it's a more gory scene than it had to be, and Edward winces as he pulls the dagger from its large body and reappears at the girl's side. Delicately, fingers pinching it by one bloody wing so as not to get mess on his glove more than is necessary, he holds the limp thing out to her. ]
Your meal, Miss Manx.