Drip. Drip. Drip.

The Rain pattered against slick black hair and hardened scales. Mismatched eyes watched how the girl's tail twitched and he could not help but compare her to a mountain lion he saw hunting in the Frozen Arch some time ago. It's tail twitched and lashed back and forth when it's prey was elusive and got away from her grasp. A small smirk lit his otherwise grimacing features, and he took another step towards the blue filly.

"The feather is not meant for you." The statement was simple but firm, for it was true. The flower producing feather was not meant for her, nor was it meant for him. His intention was, and always had been, to save it for another filly. His sister, Macaria, so young and so innocent, was the only one truly worthy of the feather's beauty. Anyone who would want to steal it from another was too corrupt to keep it close forever. This was the reason Abraham himself could not keep it--though he held no desire to, either--nor could this failed thief before him. His smirk faded away, and his slick tail slapped heavily against his hocks.

The golden dragon lifted from his back and glided low to the ground and to the left. The white followed, but opposite the golden. As the golden moved, she let the feather brush the ground and create a ring of flowers around Abraham and the roan (he still did not know her name, dammit). Even in the rain the brilliant colors of the blooming flowers showed deliberate beauty created by the Earth God himself. Each flower was blessed with the breath of the Earth God. As Gwyneverre circled around the pair, she hissed darkly.

"For your crime, I will mark you. Let it be a perpetual reminder of your failure." He decided, eyes glinting dangerously in the low light. Surely the lithe, smaller girl was quicker on her cloven hooves than he, but Abraham was prepared for that. There would be little place for the woman to run. As the mountain that was the leviathan lurched forward, neck arched and chin tucked, his dragons let loose their own assault. Fire and ice burst from the left and right hinds of the girl, attempting to push her forward into the hellion's charge. The massive black stallion aimed his twin horns down, then he sharply lifted his head when he thought he was in range. His violent intent was to slice into the muscle of her left shoulder and leave his mark in a thick, puckered scar that would forever hinder the bitch's beauty with macabre and horror.