The conversation feels suddenly deflated, both stallions blinking in idle silence between noticeably shorter, less heated exchanges. A question hangs in the air, but instead of addressing it the elder lets his attention wander, glancing over to the young fawn still hovering nearby. He wonders at the companions motions, seemingly at odds with the gold marked stallion, at least from an outside perspective. The wizened, bearded head tilts, quizzical.

Despite already having one of his own, companions remain an unfamiliar and largely mysterious topic to the old black. He’s not sure how to define them in his mind, entities simultaneously conjoined and separated, forever attached to their chosen characters and yet still their own being with personality and opinions and therefore, choices. That a companion might choose to go against his own bonded has never occurred to the geezer, but the way the buck had lunged forward, not aimed to land beside the other stallion but in front of him, between the two of them, hadn’t escaped his notice and gives a new layer of depth to the concept.

Thus far Strom has always seemed perfectly content to live vicariously through him, rarely exhibiting a negative response to his ideas and antics, though he does manipulate and occasionally complain. It only now occurs to the black that perhaps the snake takes such a passive role because of his physical limitations, recalling the vague concept of longing that flickered across their shared consciousness when he’d been unable to force his bonded away from the other stallion and their building confrontation. He mulls the thought, making an effort toward softening and opening his emotional capacities, inviting the python in for commentary, but his companion gives little response to the subject, instead communicating a certain amount of happiness at being drawn in this way and then reiterating the merits of leaving.

The stallion sighs, dragging his gaze back to the others face at last. “Isn’t that exactly why you don’t like me? No comfortable patterns, no niceties-” A wan smile pulls at one corner of his mouth as he turns to leave, still keenly aware of their relative positions, but judging the aggression levels to have dropped below threshold. Probably best to get going while the going is good. "Not even goodbye.”



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Rikyn