He had glanced over the creature at first, far too focused on his own reflection to give it any attention. He narrowed his eyes on it and tasted the air with his trunk only to recoil slightly as he was met with the rank an humid scent of dog. Was it a dog though? It looked nothing like the four legged acolytes of the elderlings, but then he supposed the bird acolytes that served his own kind did not resemble every bird. The creature spoke with an informal tongue and had the audacity to ask him what he was. Had this beast truly never seen any of the god kin? Could he not tell immediately from his size and appearance what he was? “A God.” He rumbled in response as if the pale animal should have known better. “And you? What are you?” it was large for a dog he supposed, but Abaddon was still well over three times the creature’s size in height alone. Either way it was too large for the graciousness his kind reserved for the smallest of furred creatures and so it earned his indifference. A far more wicked part of his mind was tempted to lurch forward, grab its neck in his trunk and stuff its head into his mouth where he would crush its skull like an egg. But no, he wouldn’t, he had not yet felt the red fury of the rut that would condone such unjustified violence, no matter how rude the animal was.
