Cerulean Cape raised hands

one meaty brow lifted above the other.

while there were - as certainly as there weren't - those foolish enough to let wretched sense of morality guide them into thankless altruism; in this moment, the dead's guess was at a more sinister motive.

only a select few things could bring authentic joy. a million, trillion awful ones could urinate on its smoking remains.

still, it guessed even the most depraved of local canines too creatively stifled to consider necrophilia.

a minuscule curve of the lips. the beardog shook its heavy coat, dotting the dark, pliable sand.

"an exaggeration." it said with a shrug. its body posture turned to face the preacher. "to be tired and be hungry, is the base state."

the subtle shifting of folds and mass gave a more sly expression.

"do you intend to dangle it before my snout? i wouldn't assume an invitation."