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"Don't you?" he inquired, feeling himself crack a smile. It was not one of humor, or that held any trace of pleasantry. It was only because he found her to be in a similar turmoil, and he took grim satisfaction in it.

The delicate wings and golden curls, such a spun-sugar contrast to the the violent words and poisonous eyes, it all collided to make sense now. He knew now what she was. Generations of change and muddying of her bloodline could not remove the other side of the glittering coin that was a fairy, apparently...

"And if I let you up? What will you do then, imp?" he spat the word out as if it were a bad taste.

Vartoon knew nothing of rules, or of any bizarre codes of conduct that fairy culture dictated. At her question, his eyes narrowed to amber slits, pupils dilating a bit.

What did he want...?

A variety of things sprang to mind, foremost of which was for her to skulk back into whatever hole she'd crawled out of to leave the child unharmed and let him retreat as well.

And accomplish what? Just as fairies were flippant, imps were obsessive and dwelled only on what they wanted most. She would not stop at this if her focus remained where it currently was -- to rid herself of the life inside of her. She would try again. And again. Eventually, she may succeed.

A growl escaped him, one of deepest frustration both at the situation at hand and at the unresolved fire in his lower belly. His jaws parted to speak, but no sound escaped them as his mouth crushed to the female's instead. Perhaps playing to a different obsession of hers would shift her attention.

That was what he told himself, at least...

No thinking entered his mind. No second thoughts reared their head. The pain that sang up from the pulled hair was delicious as his teeth clashed with her own between their locked mouths.

There was no tenderness in what followed, no pretense of love, whispered words, or gentle caresses. Needs were generated and filled. Limbs grappled, nails raked flesh, curses were hissed. It seemed bottomless. Even when exhaustion finally commanded them to cease.

A tail arced upward, coiling itself around her wrist to anchor her in place. "If you kill that child," the dragon rumbled. "there will be no getting used to anything."

The tone did not hold the command he wished it to. This body had ridiculously-small limits as he panted thickly, reclaiming his wind. "If, however, you are not so deadset on it..." he continued after a moment. "....perhaps we could reach an agreement."

He was reluctant to admit it had been enjoyable. It had felt like something long-unresolved had finally stopped its squalling. And as much as he WANTED to hate the female, he could not. Whether it was Zhane's bond with Nani that prevented it, or something he did not care to examine more closely, he could not say.

It didn't matter. The guardian circle commanded him to protect. And he would do so.

Vartoon listed onto his side, taking satisfaction in the idea that she was, at least for the moment, subdued enough to talk deals with him.

"You want it gone because it will get in the way of what you desire most." he stated, his gaze firmly on hers. "Something you have clearly been without for a long while." The tail uncoiled from her wrist to sweep slowly and methodically against the carpet behind him. "....something I can supply you."

He was silent a moment, allowing her to consider it. "And all you have to do, imp, is leave it be."

"Our business is not theirs." he told her, lidding his eyes slowly, pupils contracting to thin black lines once more as she straddled him. "I am just as much this 'Zhane' as you are his Nani."

He saw no reason the other two should even have to know of it. Or how they would. They, as far as they knew, were both sleeping right now, unaware entirely of what the vessels of their bodies were being used for. It made a snort of laughter escape him.

Leaning in, he nipped the curve of her jaw. "The child lives, you get all that you want."

Teeth traced the delicate shell of one pointed ear, hissing as her lips' touch brought the high sting of still-raw flesh.

"Vartoon. You?" he husked, keening to listen should she return with her own name. He was merely curious...if imps did, indeed, have something they called themselves.

"Then, Calysta," he said, trying the name. "When you have need of me next, call for me." He was bound to the pull of the runes, which would wake him to some degree when they were agitated. But her voice was a unique one. Perhaps it, too, would wake him...

....and speaking of waking, his eyes blinked once, momentarily revealing green irises behind the amber orbs, and blinked back again. "He wakes..." he growled.