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09-14-2015, 03:12 AM
An ear and eye flick in the direction of a voice. A deep but feminine voice saying something witty and humorous. Something that he normally would have laughed at, found amusing, and replied to in playful banter. But, in his self-pitying and irritable state, only the barest of lopsided smiles passed over his broad face. He sighs, unsure if he wants (or trusts himself) to be around another currently, especially a mare. Even a mare who has not crossed him- one he does not even know. He’s a trained soldier, so he does not think he will lash out, but he is also a stallion with layers of horrendous memories and a vengeful heart. “I believe we are herd mates?” at her words he finally raises his great head, loosely spiraled horn leaving the water’s surface. Blue eyes, still burning with tumultuous emotions, sweep over to the mare. A herdmate? Indeed, she looks vaguely familiar. He had seen her at the herd meeting. And a warrior? He felt something shift in him. Warriors could be trusted, generally. They were black-and-white, no nonsense (usually). For there’s no space for nonsense on the battlefield. At her next question, another lopsided grin crosses his broad muzzle- this one lasting longer than the first. He appreciated her tone- straightforward but sympathetic. The elephant did not want saccharine sweetness and pity, for the rage he felt in his barrel would burn it away with caustic words. “Yes, I am the Glazier of the Edge,” his deep voice finally rumbles, his words clipped though he continues speaking, “And yes, I’ve seen you at our lands.” Usually, he does not tower over others and refrains from staring down at them. But all of this is not ‘usual’ for the elephant, as he sits tensely at his great height, blazing navy eyes boring into her own, piercing blue ones. Vaguely, his brain appreciates that the mare is striking, her body appeasing in it’s athletic grace and contrasting tones. And her eyes practically glow in her defined face. And, also vaguely, his body responds to the amount of pheromones floating about in this gods forsaken place he had stomped into. But he didn’t notice. And he certainly didn’t care, for the hurt heart is so much more powerful than even the needs endowed by Mother Nature. So these hazy observations and dim urges remained lost in the back of his mind. But he did answer her question, words flowing vehemently and before his brain could filter them, “A mare of the Basin lied to my face, with her back still warm from my gods damn barrel! And the colt, Alexander,” he spat the name, “to have the- the depravity to force a mare- my Rex- to be his whore-“ he cut himself off, for with each word he could feel his rage boiling, his muscles growing, his vision going red. Sometimes venting is cathartic, but now it was feeding the fire. Muscles leaping in his cheek as he clenches his jaw, he pushes himself away from the cypress that is digging into his side. His now seething gaze sweeps away the mare, searching to incinerate something across the water. He wants to apologize for his rant, but he does not trust himself to open his mouth again. Ears flick back as he attempts to rein in the rage of an elephant. |
- table by Niki -
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