Her questioning voice was tugging him toward abandon. It would have been tasteless to offer him a creature who was apathetic toward her own pain, but a screeching mad thing - though probably likeable to his future, advanced tastes - would have been off-putting, initially. As she was now, compliant but affected, was perfect. He tried not to think such things but it was be such a waste not to appreciate her design.<br/><br/>His hand soaked in her rare fluid. It was fainter than blood, and so it felt as though he'd never had enough of it to spill. Like flavor stretched over too much water. His breath was greedier when she finally reached to touch him, to preserve herself. That was likely the most alive he'd felt as far as he cold remember. He was swayed to stop his diminishing of her crown's prong. She was in conflict too, the way this situation was escalating. He could see it. She did not know what her place was if he wanted her to die not an hour into her life.<br/><br/>He did not let go of the twig he'd mutilated, there was some length left on it, but instead busied his inspection of her quintessential apex. How pleasing, that she'd have sap there for him, too. The hand that had made her bleed made three streaks over her face, sure her giant lids would protect her giant eyes. He wondered what perfect mirrors they would be, when he took her in a more convectional, though no less raw manner. It was bound to happen now, that she seemed every secret inclination he'd missed about himself.<br/><br/>"I don't want you to die." he decided as two fingers tugged at one of her folds, truly finding in which ways she was like a woman, and what part might differ on account of being a nymph. "You must tell me when I am bringing you close to that." he said and stuck the bloodied nails into his own mouth. His eyes faltered. It wasn't honey, but for blood it was thick and sweet. Kedrick was getting used to his role as her world and destroyer. It was fitting.<br/><br/>When Greta returned he was furious, even though his hands came back to him. Iris would be able to feel the murder in his blood even though he kept composure flawlessly. A little scene of hurting her, where she stood, but that was a thought shared between master and sapling, without him knowing. Iris had put blood on his palled, and now he was afflicted. It easily made him think violent things toward Greta. He wasn't even sure that was out of bounds, at least some of it, given the complacent nature of this company.<br/><br/>"Ah, yes." he replied as she went on about the Waking Doll's specifications, and how they were unsure what all the extra augmentations would change her compared to others they'd made. "But I will like to take her home now." he insisted. It was appropriate to be impatient, when they'd given him a new addiction. "Don't you think, Iris?" he asked, and they both turned to the youngest creature, Greta with curiosity and Kedrick with expectance.