The azure dragon grew annoyed at the responses from his allies.
"Sob story?" Finir objected, a frown appearing as he grabbed the girl, propping her over his shoulders as if she asked for a piggy-back ride. "Ugh, the nerve of these people sometimes", he said aside to himself, "Is it that easy to forget why we're here? But seriously, where did 'sob story' come from?"
When the azure dragon started to move again to do battle, the girl had tightened her grip around his neck. Noticing this, he turned his head to her, and saw the same emotionless, blank, and sleepy expression she had upon being sighted. It wasn't tight enough to be a choke hold, he thought. But it was more like she was holding onto him for safety.
The thought that a dead child was held fast upon his back chilled his spine like a long wet worm had touched and wriggled within his spinal column. Though uncomfortable from his undead backpack, Finir fought on.
Still, he thought of the possible reasons as the why he fought.
The undead were being controlled by Diasee. Knowing Diasee, it can probably see what's going on through them as if it were its own eyes. A live feed into their plans if they were to capture and try to figure out the power of the disease itself.
"...Well," Finir said to himself, "guess I don't need any rope."
"...Unless Diasee is omnispective," Tiamat answered Ferre, massaging his shoulders whilst still staring down into the chaos, "there would be someone or something here that he used to predict our movements and act accordingly toward our demise. It had to have been before these undead had become involved...Though, the possibility of masterful puppetry - making the undead seem so alive with speech, actions, and so on - is there."
"Perhaps," she concluded, "the disease gives Diasee the power to observe quietly even in the victim's shortened life...!"
Tiamat's gaze instantly expressed shock upon the thought. If it were true, it would be increasingly harder for the whole of them to move without Diasee knowing it already. After all, anyone could be infected, and there was still a uncertainty on how broad a scope the disease has spread throughout the world. Times were dire, indeed.
But the mask of shock gave way to confusion, as she observed her retainer fighting with an undead girl latched upon his back. Not attacking, not biting, not eating his ear...Nothing.
"...What is Finir doing with that fiend on his back...?" She asked in bewilderment.
Pinkie Pool's archnemesis: Oatmeal.
Last edited by Marzai; 12-26-2011 at 06:06 PM.