No, he hadn't been mocking her...but now, his lip curls. "I can't help that, you know." Wrathion is almost smirking. This is insult to injury.
"I'm taller than you," he quips. And then, when her ire is raised further and he hasn't even dug in with the real insult (though he just had) the dragon snorts.
"You aren't much of a scholar, are you? You would not say such things--besides, it's not as if you need to twist my words in the seat of your master's power. His crawling lackeys--which include you, child--would believe anything you told them." He knows damned well he's no traitor--not to this Regent, and not to this spitting hellchild, either. Mayhap if he'd ever met her in the past--but no.
Wrathion can only define Majorita's minions in terms he comprehends--so while it is true they are indeed zombies, he growls low in his throat, the bass rumbling through his chest even as they bite him. He's aware the storied Lich King is not here, to his knowledge, but he has no love anyway for...
"Scourge?" Well. That means he doesn't have to hold back with them, at least, though where there are two, there are usually more. This means that Wrathion will want to leave sooner rather than later, now.
He grips one of the zombies by the back of the skull, tearing it off him--yes, it hurts, but he can't be asked to care right now. Wrathion has never been a child, not of the type to throw balls or play games. But it's as if he's throwing a baseball, pitching this first zombie straight at its mistress, and sending its compatriot at her moments after the first. He does not care if they hit her or if she eludes them, because after the first two, he sends one of his tiny, marble-sized fireballs soaring straight for Majorita's face.
Not that it will hurt her by any means--he just plans to detonate it and blind her, should it get close enough. Easier for Wrathion to make his escape, this way.
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"I'm taller than you," he quips. And then, when her ire is raised further and he hasn't even dug in with the real insult (though he just had) the dragon snorts.
"You aren't much of a scholar, are you? You would not say such things--besides, it's not as if you need to twist my words in the seat of your master's power. His crawling lackeys--which include you, child--would believe anything you told them." He knows damned well he's no traitor--not to this Regent, and not to this spitting hellchild, either. Mayhap if he'd ever met her in the past--but no.
Wrathion can only define Majorita's minions in terms he comprehends--so while it is true they are indeed zombies, he growls low in his throat, the bass rumbling through his chest even as they bite him. He's aware the storied Lich King is not here, to his knowledge, but he has no love anyway for...
"Scourge?" Well. That means he doesn't have to hold back with them, at least, though where there are two, there are usually more. This means that Wrathion will want to leave sooner rather than later, now.
He grips one of the zombies by the back of the skull, tearing it off him--yes, it hurts, but he can't be asked to care right now. Wrathion has never been a child, not of the type to throw balls or play games. But it's as if he's throwing a baseball, pitching this first zombie straight at its mistress, and sending its compatriot at her moments after the first. He does not care if they hit her or if she eludes them, because after the first two, he sends one of his tiny, marble-sized fireballs soaring straight for Majorita's face.
Not that it will hurt her by any means--he just plans to detonate it and blind her, should it get close enough. Easier for Wrathion to make his escape, this way.