Feel my serpentine

There was always something off about Syrinx. He was unnatural and eerie. Though, this was naturally looked at in several different ways. Not all would fear him as though he liked to think they should, and not all would look to him for the answers he so perfectly knew the answer to. That was fine, he would not blame them for their skepticism. In his head he could hear the voices of everyone around him. He knew about his mother. His father. He knew the voices talking to him were them asking him to relent. But, in his own way he was carrying out a mission that they had put him on. It was his own form of rebellion--carried onto his shoulders until so long after his parents had been tucked away. This was a surprise, howevver. Syrinx had never been mistreated as a child. He had been doted on as the first born and loved as though he needed it. He was only doing this for them...for their legacy.

Survival of the fittest was a dangerous game to play.

"How exciting..." he purred as she so easily declared he had become worthy of knowing her intentions. His curiosity was sparked more than he was letting on and he waited for miss Azathoth to explain to him what it was that she was plotting against the world. She was a daring psychopath, but he could easily admit that he liked the way she thought. The power she embodied was something not everyone could pull off. erhaps it were her eyes--so bright and yet also calculating. Perhaps it was the mere color of her hairs-Smoke. The remnants of a fire. Together--he could be the fire--and she could be the smoke. The fire that would not be tamed and brought initial destruction. She, the smoke, that filled the lungs of many and choked them as easily as a man wrapping strong hands around a nimble neck. How easy.

He takes a step towards her and silence erupts in plentiful. Her first statement was so genuine. She would serve...near nothing. And yet he attempts to turn his head towards her face again--to huskily whisper to her, "--and what if I am chaos? You would then serve me," A low chuckle would spring from his lips as the dark moment faded and he were left staring at her in wait. Such darkness and simply perfect configuration. He was intrigued and hungry for this alone, "I would. Simply for the challenge. I'm a glutton, mon petite. I crave the challenge--the chase, and I want it to be difficult. What is the fun of chance if there is nothing to strive towards," He would answer her with a question, which in his mind was fine--but he would find that she was so confused. He was much more than a simple wild fire.