The curious cub was inching closer to Hasovir, he noticed how she was very interested in his blood. ’Oh yeah, you cut yourself…’ The wound was numb and did not hinder him in the least, it was entertaining that the cub wanted a taste of blood; the stallion almost felt compelled to give the savage little thing a taste. He noticed the young colt’s orbits shifting back and forth between his companion and the older stag and this was amusing as well. A minor smirk that Hasovir concealed pressed upon his maw in response to the Dorobian coated unicorn’s statement. Hasovir was reminded of a blind arrogance that had held his cranium in the clouds when he was this adolescent’s age – that same arrogance gave him the upper hand in the ranks. Being the older warrior, there was an admiration here that Hasovir sensed. ’If this was Dorobo, you would be my prodigy.’ A fleeting thought that also came with the guilt of comfort (cue the bad taste in Hasovir’s mouth).

The silvery brute’s deal was fair only because Hasovir needed to know why he sensed his brother here. ’Tis coincidental, Hasovir.’ a sugared voice broke through the squall in his mind. He disregarded it. His attention was returned to the cub and a weird sensation overcame him like he needed to provide for it. Briefly he imagined himself killing an antelope just to feed the dog – oh hunting, what a joy that had been. Before he could get lost in another memory he double blinked and replied back to the young unicorn with his optics staying locked on the cub. “All right, young one.” Hasovir sort of rolled his crown here, a gesture of ‘you win’ combined with sarcasm. He knew he had to comply just so he could get his answer and leave this place. How was it that someone always found him? His unyielding tone broke the air once more, “I was in the ocean to train my muscles – their use has been resting far too long.” He broke his sincere stare from the cub and gazed over the colt’s shoulder to let his orbs rest upon the ocean. Its’ rough current almost whispering his name again, mesmerizing Hasovir momentarily while he finished answering the stranger’s questions.

“Dorobo. The Great Plains.” A short and quick sigh to follow this, Hasovir met the unicorn’s eyes and then, “Home of many cultures and tribes. And you, young one, have their native markings.” His blood began boiling here, flashes of Tembovu slid in his head – it was possible for other Dorobians to be here, after all he had made it here. He repeated a phrase in his mind over and over until the feeling of rage was unobtrusive. With a clear mind he knew he did not need to hear this colt was from Dorobo for his coat screamed Dorobo. Hasovir became suddenly uninterested, but remained still unsure of why. Something was keeping him here; was it the sense of home? ’Oh do not be a god damned fool, you chump.’ Yikes. That voice was raspy and rude and knew all of Hasovir’s stupid buttons. How had that one slipped by? The same ruthless, unfiltered persona of that voice was projecting from this stag that stood before him, Hasovir could hear it in his speech.

Envy was stroking Hasovir’s thoughts, interjecting its way into the several voices that sounded like a merry-go-round. This would become motivation later, as Hasovir needed to prove to himself and others he was capable of being a resilient gladiator once again. Although it had not all been lost; Hasovir would most likely be surprised at how much fight was still left in him – with the years of not having to use his skill set it was still immediately at disposal, whenever he would need it he would be ready. His velvets lowered to just above knee-level, nostrils taking in the cub’s fragrant scent and as he rose he detected the smell of Tembovu yet again. It struck his nose in the most discreet way but oh it was there. Maybe it was himself. Maybe he was smelling the darkest depths of his bloodline – within it was the same crimson that rain in Tembovu’s veins. The wind picked away what was in the encompassing circle and Hasovir’s wild mane lifted off of his nape. He stood tall and nearly regal, with the sun glaring down onto his darkening pink scar that caressed the side of his face; he could feel it getting sun burnt and the salt from the water was stinging, yet he liked it.

The white band that masked his optics created a more intense look than was meant to come across. Hasovir searched for more to say but said nothing, for there was nothing. He had come to terms that this colt was like a younger Hasovir and that’s where this peculiar feeling was blossoming from. He could feel a shift in the environment as the tide was beginning to drain out farther, and in the farthest earshot he could make out seals bellowing. Glancing down at the cub, her nose almost reaching Hasovir’s wound, he simply said, “A seal pup would be decadent for her.” Something he had learned from working with the hyenas of Dorobo: carnivorous tactics were fun tactics. He assumed this colt did not help this cub hunt, for she looked very capable herself, but Hasovir could not imagine missing out on a fun hunt with a comrade. ’She is not your comrade, Hassssovir. WE ARE.’ the hissing voice came with a sharp pain that pierced the right lobe of his brain. Hasovir hoped this one wouldn’t be debilitating, not now.



OOC: I am loving this.
@KIANZO