a devil on the run, a six gun lover, a candle in the wind
Merely grunting in response, Arsen does peek a little closer at the water again, though there's no doubt that he's already made measure of the hulking creature across the water. Predatory laziness drips from Remi's presence, but the harpy is all bunched muscles and feathers primed to fly. Part of it is nature - birds are always ready to fly, after all - but the rest is knowledge that he's in another's territory. And things can and do change at lightning speeds. Shame. I'd like to see what you kill that makes so much red, he mutters.
At the suggestion he see for himself, the harpy gives a smirk of his own, though humanoid as his shift is, he needs no mental grins. Granted, neither does the stranger before him, what with the shark teeth and all. Still, with his eyes still fixed on the manticore's, a talon snaps out, pinning, grabbing, snatching, and when Arsen lifts it, along with a clump of dirt and a great deal of grass, there's also a wiggling dormouse in his grip.
He removes it from the talon with clawed fingers, tossing it into the water. Where it immediately comes into contact with the lichen, and disappears into a plume of red. "Gross," he grates out, hopping back instinctively.
At the suggestion he see for himself, the harpy gives a smirk of his own, though humanoid as his shift is, he needs no mental grins. Granted, neither does the stranger before him, what with the shark teeth and all. Still, with his eyes still fixed on the manticore's, a talon snaps out, pinning, grabbing, snatching, and when Arsen lifts it, along with a clump of dirt and a great deal of grass, there's also a wiggling dormouse in his grip.
He removes it from the talon with clawed fingers, tossing it into the water. Where it immediately comes into contact with the lichen, and disappears into a plume of red. "Gross," he grates out, hopping back instinctively.
Arsen
