The presence of another approaches just as the large, pale stallion turns to me. He is surprisingly calm considering the jaguar of ink pacing at my side and the rather abrupt revealing of myself through the mists. Cautious, I watch him with a spy's scrutiny for detail, wondering with as much suspicion as curiosity as to who he is and why he is. I am half listening to his well versed words with one ear. My other tilts towards the footfalls of a herd mate nearing. It's a bay pegasus.
Thor, if I remember right.
He's standing at my side now and I spare him a glance, appreciative of his back up. I truly can provide nothing but a ruse to these strangers and would have been beaten into a black smear on the ground had they chosen violence. He is quick to assert his authority and rank, imposing a much more intimidating front than I just with his sheer bulk. He's on edge, as I suspected, his words a bit coarse and rash.
I guess we're on all edge here at the Edge.
I wish to laugh, but it would be terribly inappropriate.
The black stranger seems more shy. I wonder if it is a genetic trait of black horses, thinking of myself. I flick my tail - the jaguar crouches, patiently impatient.
He speaks and I feel myself wince as he proves Thor's claims of stupidity rather on mark.
Open the large stallion says with a strange sort of awe. I tilt my head, unsure if he is truly dim witted or just pitiful. I wonder if he lived in a tight forest his whole life, more a deer than a horse. Yet he is a bird by all rights with that line of thought, and birds are very accustomed to
open. Is this a fissure in their well rehearsed game, or just an honesty of character that is, to politely put it, lacking?
The pale one nudges his kin? Or are they only friends. His partner, either way, and my gaze narrows further as I ponder the meaning behind that small motion. He then strides forward quickly, moving around Thor and I in a dangerous way. I unconsciously scrunch closer to the protector, ears high on my poll as I whip my head around to follow the white steed. My tail is a flurry of motion and my panther is back on his feet, wet paws staining the earth as he slinks ahead of me, his tail an angry snake behind him. A silent yowl presses from his mouth as he stalks the line between the snowy stranger and I.
I'm not sure if I'm just paranoid. These two after all haven't quite yet done anything. Yet I feel my hide bristle and his motions make me clench my jaw with every stride. They are up to no good I am sure, and fearful I wonder if I will finally get my introduction to fighting today. I begin to regret my decision to approach them, selfish as I am.
His voice slides over me like the coarse brine of the sea, cold and unpleasant, while he demands information. I want to glance at Thor, to convey in some way to him that I would not trust such knowledge with these beasts as I might a different newcomer. The information is not entirely secretive, many know of Mirage and the image of the Edge, but I do not wish for
them to know, not like this, here and now.
I flatten my ears.
Another voice cuts through the fog. It was so sudden I flinch, my body briefly dissolving into ink before reforming whole once more; my outline melting momentarily and perhaps unnoticed. I glance furtively to the side and am relieved, obviously so as my stance relaxes, to find Hellena. Although she is no fighter, indeed I wonder if she is any better than I, though I know her little, just her presence should be enough to set the odds against these brutes.
Perhaps they do not need to be told what the horses of the Edge are like, they'll see it for themselves. We are strong, intelligent, united.
We are one.
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We will be young forever [Gryffindor,Open]
