The lion's ears pricked. Before the sand had even left Cyrus' hand, Ralarulash churned his great wings and leaped high over the young prince's head. He spun in midair and landed neatly behind Cyrus, facing him, his eyes no longer amused.

"I grow tired of your infantile logic," he snarled while the cloud of dust and sand settled around them. "We could dance all night, but you won't [i]touch[/i] a single feather as long as I don't wish it. The only reason I haven't [i]eaten[/i] you is the fact that you're too [i]pathetic[/i] to bother with. But I might yet rip you apart because you annoy me."

He pawed the ground, snorted, and gave Cyrus a cynical sneer before he turned his back on the boy with a dismissive flick of his tail. "I would have agreed to trade with you -- as [i]kings[/i] and [i]emperors[/i] must sacrifice men and resources in order to gain land and allegiances -- but I see that you, godlike, are [i]above[/i] petty exchange. Surely one as [i]powerful[/i] as yourself can simply [i]take[/i] everything he wishes to have, with no consequence." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I will have nothing to do with you. Attack me again and I will remove your head."