To Burn a Tail

WATCHER Soon the other relaxed as he too laughed at the irony of the moment. "As am I." Was his answer to the colt. He still refused to look at his tail.The threat of punishment no longer present, the younger boy allowed himself open up more. The older man knew what was coming. Questions. He would be expected to be sociable and pleasant. He was in a good mood, so why not indulge the boy? He offered a nod to the question of his spiders. "I did." His voice rumbled. He took a great deal of pride in his spiders. Though his face and tone did little to express this or the fondness he felt for them. They were his creations. In a way, they were pieces of him brought to life. So much so that he could even feel pain when connected to them. Should one be destroyed, he'd experience that pain of its death. Then, the boy spoke a puzzling sentence. Of course he wasn't the sun. That was a rather absurd statement. He just stared at him, stoic as ever. Thankfully the magical bird appeared before any sort of smart remark could leave the elder's lips. Ruwin cocked his head, a brow raising as he curiously inspected the enchanted item. His nose lowered as he studied the magical bird closer. Kyros was clearly proud of his gift. As he should be. It was an impressive piece. Far better than his bottomless satchel he had been given, though it was a useful thing he had desired. "Impressive." He muttered. As he looked further the stallion's lips became more loose. "Does it communicate with you in any way? Can you see through its eyes or does it act on its own, like a living bird? I assume the sentence you spoke earlier activates it. Does it carry any other abilities that you can call upon?" He was curious about the items special abilities. Such things had always intrigued the crafter. He created his own living machines, after all. Though this one was far more smooth and life-life than his own creations. Though the man had never cared to fret over the minor details. They did what they were built to do, and effectively. Ascetics were never a concern. Remembering the colt's interest in his own machines, he called to them. Several descended from his body on thin, metallic threads. They lighted upon the ground and scurried towards Kyros. Some were small and delicate, while others were the size of bird-eating spiders. They scurried around the metal bird, some even waving their fore-legs as if to show off or warn the bird not to try anything. Each one acted on its own, only prompted by the thread of thought sent by their creator. They settled at the colt's feet for his inspection. "Talk." You have three choices in Life: Get up, give in, Or give it all you've got!

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@Kyros.