The first secret

tie a rope around your neck, and let me kick you off a bungee My ears are drawn back at the fire she produces, the spit and hiss of her words as she rages, annoyance and tension filtering the air around us as I stand to my full potential, dauntless and looming. I will not listen to a girl barely older than I about what I should be doing, whether I should remain or leave at her discretion. "I don't take orders from a baszatlan kurva," words snaked with venom gather at my lips, dropping harshly, cutting through the momentary silence between the girl and I as I lay my ears flat and feel my body tense defensively ("ein narr,""una bambina stessa,") - my stomach is coiling, the magic that radiates from my skin reaching out, hungering for living tissue, for organic matter as my own irritation swells. What right does she have to order me to leave? I was here first! If anyone should be going away, it should be her for being so unbelievably rude. I raise my lip, scoffing at her empty threats and way her body lingers closer then, upon in as she paces into my space, demanding I help her. I let loose mocking laughter, harsh and unpleasant as it tears from my throat, gagging on the foreignness of my own laugh as I let out a final bleat before silencing myself. I straighten out, letting my face remain slack as it had been through my fit, let my ears remain pressed against the back of my head and focus linger on the darkness before me, letting my lips twitch in disgust ever so subtly. "And you call me the brat? Perhaps you should take a moment to realize that you're the one demanding help from someone you didn't hesitate to insult," I sneer, feeling the magic creep out towards the woman, hesitating before withdrawing because as much as I would love to crush her here, to let the magic blister upon her skin, bubble and burst with infection and rot - she was useful, she was the key to my success and I wish so badly I didn't have to help someone so ungrateful. "But I'll help, only because I get something out of it - you should be on your fucking knees kissing my hooves for even considering this, sertés." I spit at her, angled towards the ground but hoping that it splatters at her hooves despite only going on a whim, a fair guess as to where she stands. "Now, sertés, how can I help?"

@Erthë