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He is in the turbulent water, glistening like the fish he has become, dark coat ebony from the water pouring around him, tons of it, rushing him up towards the rocks ready to break bones and tear muscles. It roars, this ocean water, throwing the relatively tiny horse towards the cliffs below the Edge. There is no such thing as pain as he collides with salt-tanged rock, but he knows when he falls the blood is turning red around him, and he feels the familiar panic setting in. What has happened to him? He cannot feel pain- he could break all four legs, and would not crumple under agony. It is something very rare, something both gift and curse.
Cormac snarls in frustration, tail smashing the choppy blue water as he struggles away from the roaring tide and chaos below the territory of the Edge. Oh yes, he knows he is by the Edge- he was curious for a glimpse, the wild pirate he is, always searching for some riches and something else... something he has not discussed with anyone but his herd. No, not herd- bacheleor group.
Oh yes, he has spoken of invasions and raids and other acts of pilfering and attacking. He is pirate, after all, and pirates are known for their greed. Whether it be gold, land, or sea, the stallion cares little- oh, and the ladies of course. To say he likes mares is to say pegasi love the sky. He is drawn to them, and will seduce them. So, add that onto the list, right next to greedy: cocky bastard.
It is sometime later near high noon when the waves die down a touch, and he finds himself in a cavern in the cliffs, in a pool of water, glistening red around him. His gills are still immersed in the cool liquid, luckily, but his muzzle rests upon the harsh, ragged stone. Faint light illuminates the cavern- it is surprisingly wide, glistening with salt and sea, with enough room for four or five horses. Cormac glances over his shoulder, yet the tide is still to high- he will have to wait.
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