11-03-2018, 06:04 AM
[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 60%; font-family: georgial; font-size: 11pt;"]/ oof apologies for the late reply, my muse kinda just went haywire
A life may have just been a life, but why safe the life of one if you could save the life of dozens? Killing a leader or high position could disincentive those of a weaker disposition to go down a truly evil path. To the gryphon, there was no point trying to rationalise with the Pitt, time and time again now he'd talked to creatures like them and time and time again he'd been hurt for it. A scar here, a broken heart there, though his hybrid body had been the perfect coverup for years of torment at the paws of monsters due to it's lack of injuries, mentally it wasn't so easy to repair his better judgement. To have it called into question was like having a branch impaled right through his knee again, he'd made it perfectly clear throughout this whole interaction that he wasn't a fan of the questioning.
Moral debates were almost always inspiring or provoking, but not in a way that made him irritated. A lowly Pittian had no place telling him what he could and couldn't believe. Pain in a scaly forelimb brought all boiling thoughts to an end, a furious screech emanating from his throat. Adrenaline well and truly coursed through his veins now, intensified by the sight of the other's blood... and his own between the other's teeth. Feliks doesn't pull back or resist the dog's savagery, pain could've riled him to do something foolish and further damage his captured limb but he thought he was a more experienced fighter than that. Five years alive and four years of constant battling for both his survival and others', though his training may not have been as extensive as some creatures, the one advantage he had was experience.
Sparring for months would hardly quell one's fears or excitements when first entering a battlefield. It was a whole new experience, going against creatures that genuinely wanted you dead as opposed to friends or mentors... it was exhilarating (until of course you got hit, then it sucked). Craning his neck forwards, the Striker aimed to snap his sharp beak against the top of the other's maw multiple times, finishing his assault of with an attempted headbutt to the other. He'd have to drag his own limb closer for that of course, which wasn't ideal (and a brief albeit pained expression showed that), but it was worth it if it meant getting the cur away from him.
A life may have just been a life, but why safe the life of one if you could save the life of dozens? Killing a leader or high position could disincentive those of a weaker disposition to go down a truly evil path. To the gryphon, there was no point trying to rationalise with the Pitt, time and time again now he'd talked to creatures like them and time and time again he'd been hurt for it. A scar here, a broken heart there, though his hybrid body had been the perfect coverup for years of torment at the paws of monsters due to it's lack of injuries, mentally it wasn't so easy to repair his better judgement. To have it called into question was like having a branch impaled right through his knee again, he'd made it perfectly clear throughout this whole interaction that he wasn't a fan of the questioning.
Moral debates were almost always inspiring or provoking, but not in a way that made him irritated. A lowly Pittian had no place telling him what he could and couldn't believe. Pain in a scaly forelimb brought all boiling thoughts to an end, a furious screech emanating from his throat. Adrenaline well and truly coursed through his veins now, intensified by the sight of the other's blood... and his own between the other's teeth. Feliks doesn't pull back or resist the dog's savagery, pain could've riled him to do something foolish and further damage his captured limb but he thought he was a more experienced fighter than that. Five years alive and four years of constant battling for both his survival and others', though his training may not have been as extensive as some creatures, the one advantage he had was experience.
Sparring for months would hardly quell one's fears or excitements when first entering a battlefield. It was a whole new experience, going against creatures that genuinely wanted you dead as opposed to friends or mentors... it was exhilarating (until of course you got hit, then it sucked). Craning his neck forwards, the Striker aimed to snap his sharp beak against the top of the other's maw multiple times, finishing his assault of with an attempted headbutt to the other. He'd have to drag his own limb closer for that of course, which wasn't ideal (and a brief albeit pained expression showed that), but it was worth it if it meant getting the cur away from him.
WHERE SECRETS LIE IN THE BORDER FIRES
———————「 typhoon / [color=black]tags / griffon / @ PYRO 」 ———————