Bridges Burned [The Grey, Open]

Bridges Burned [The Grey, Open]

Rafe Posts: 30

Outcast

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 8 Buff: NOVICE

Tamme

12-21-2012, 11:14 PM

RAFE</style>
The coldest blood runs through my veins</style>

The red demon with soulless blue eyes approached with his metronome gait, solid, massive hooves never missing a step. Muscles rolled easily beneath his short fur, full, two-toned tail swaying easily in his wake. The slope of his hips every propelled him forward, stride reaching easily beneath his figure to nearly touch his front hooves as they lifted in synchrony. Unfortunately, their visit to the Basin had been a bust. He had thought that their new herd and rather tentative lifestyle without their leader would warrant more of a positive response and more of a response. However, he had only run in to a crimson healer and a few others who had no opinion. That had grated on his nerves.

A strange, male voice came, calling out the Grey, and the executioner tilted his ears forward, hearing a feminine reply give out the stallion's name. Phaedra, was her name. He had met her at their meeting and then in the Basin. She was capable, if not a little naive. As he approached, he caught the smell of sea salt in her wavy, cream-colored mane, and he absently wondered why she had gone there. Still, he was not overly interested, just curious.

As he moved into the clearing, the blue eyed, empty stallion regarded the pegasus male before him with a cold, calculating gaze. Nothing about Rafe screamed warmth or openness. He was icy, hard, and clearly lacking morals. The stallion was a killer, not a warrior. A murderous bastard with just enough of a creed to not be executed. Rafe mused that the stallion before him was capable enough. His golden eyes reminded him of a hawk and his expression held intelligence, though something about his demeanor screamed emotion. He wanted to avoid that avenue at all costs, but the equally as dim and pathetic of a demeanor as the mare made his chances of escaping this tear free rather slim.

The four, massive crowns upon his brown dipped in a generally respectful dip of the head toward the other stallion, and he glanced at the mare, letting her know that he at least acknowledged her presence. "And you know of us how?" he asked, his voice smooth like rich vodka, a rather stunning tenor for such a monstrous expression.