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She cast another wary glance towards d'Artagnan, careful to keep her angled body well-balanced in case she should need to turn around to engage him if he decided to strike her. She saw no reason why he would, but she decided it was better to be safe than sorry. The throaty chuckle sent her ears flickering momentarily backwards, eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. She was generally good with dealing with fear - a sarcastic comment was usually enough to diffuse a situation, but there was little she could do to lessen the bay beast's irrational hatred of her. She almost gawped at his words - cheeky sod! "At least you're honest," she crossly retorted. She was still confused, unamused and a little bit scared - how had she managed to incite the wrath of two stallions simply through a misplaced stare? His talk of how to remedy the situation sent shivers down her spine, but this time she refused to let herself show just how much he had unnerved her. He then had the audacity to call her frail, and a snort of disgust fled her flared nostrils. She swung her body around to face him squarely and her frozen gaze sought his, all attempts at appearing placid gone in an instant. The iron lady had the storm inside her; she was the daughter of thunder, and she had quite a nasty temper when provoked. A potent mixture of annoyance, anger and fear had smothered her natural instinct to run, as well as her sense of self-preservation. Standing up to a stallion who had a hellhound and a black-spotted friend with an attitude problem likely wasn't her wisest move, but her already fragile mood had shattered. "Less of the frail - I'd like to see you shove a foal out of your ass," she retorted sharply. Although she appreciated her position in life - that was, inferior to men - she did not care to be called weak or frail when she had experienced something more painful than a stallion ever could. Unless she kicked him in the nuts, mind. Mauja's eerie comments added to the bedlam inside the storm queen's head, but she only shifted her true attention to him when the crunch of pebbles told her he was moving closer. She was in the unenviable situation of being trapped between two very strange stallions, both with pets that could rip her eyes and throat out without a second thought. She knew it would be best to run while her hide was intact, but dammit, she would not prove d'Artagnan right in pronouncing her frail. She was not a coward - she was jumpy, and had a healthy preservation instinct, but her heart was wrapped in steel and her body in iron. "What in the name of Cinnoru is wrong with you two?" she hissed, one hoof pawing the ground in discomfort and her neck arched so her horn was slightly lowered and thus easier to use as a weapon if it came to it. "Are all Helovians so...bi-polar?" Her blazing blue eyes darted between the pair. |
Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.
