Out of the Norm

So he wasn't good at this picnic thing and he hadn't brought anything to make a fire. After Merrick took a bite of the raw, seasoned meat, he made a face of disgust, his nose wrinkling, but he didn't spit it out. Instead he swallowed the nastiness, then took another swig of wine once Keelin was done. Well... at least they had wine, right? The brute rummaged around in the basket, looking to see if he'd thrown anything else in there. He lifted out a jar of... something, and handed it to the woman beside him to open. Hopefully it was something edible. In the meantime, he repackaged the venison meat that hadn't been touched and threw it back in the basket, already grumpy that he'd fucked up lunch.

When Keelin asked what she would be upset about, Merrick didn't pull any punches. "Mendacium law, only one pup gets to live. The rest will be culled." He took another drink of the wine, still waiting for her to open the jar. "You won't have to choose. I'll pick and I'll be the one to kill the rest." He could spare her that. A good trade for bearing his children, he supposed. It wouldn't be the first time he'd killed pups, though they hadn't been his own. It most likely wouldn't be the last either.

"Merrick Mendacium"