there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters
The fury at a lost kill echoes through the air in an inhuman roar unlike any other. There is no Ronin here to reply to Remi's outrage, only scales and talons and a mind as cold and calculating as it is bloody-minded. And so when the dragon lands among the sand and glass, it's without any intention of parlay or chit-chat. Sleek black claws bite into the ground, a ridged tail whipping across the sand, and wings flare in challenge.
Just kill him, the dragon in him suggests, reasonably, softly, like velvet. It wouldn't take much, and he's just in the way anyway. Ronin's maw opens and he roars out another challenge - or is it a warning? He's too far gone to tell. Either way, it's with a bubbling growl that his serpentine head lowers, eyes blank and feral, wanting nothing but blood and violence.
Just kill him, the dragon in him suggests, reasonably, softly, like velvet. It wouldn't take much, and he's just in the way anyway. Ronin's maw opens and he roars out another challenge - or is it a warning? He's too far gone to tell. Either way, it's with a bubbling growl that his serpentine head lowers, eyes blank and feral, wanting nothing but blood and violence.
ronin
