.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
05-24-2013, 11:44 PM
|
Head to head it's all or nothing.
The Dauntless watched the scene unfold around him in a statue-like manner, his legs firm beneath his behemoth frame, keeping his balance solid. Loretta stood on his side, shoulder to his leg, with her tail curled up around her back. She did not like the thought of helping others, but Archibald reminded her that the Grey was a force of neutrality. Archibald was fine with the contracts that they Grey made, for the ones that Archibald held a connection to were with him in the Grey and were not affected poorly. Archibald let Ophelia speak and lay out the contract, but the Dauntless’ golden eyes stared hard between the supposed general, Deimos, and the leader, Psyche. He all but ignored the two that traveled with them as well as the two-horned brute, for he had no business with them.
Archibald was only slightly angered when the blood bay mentioned his disowned son, and the draft behemoth scoffed aloud to display his distaste. He also, in the very depths of his labyrinth mind, made a note to never become such a poor excuse for a father. Flicking his tail, Archibald listened as they changed the conversation movements. His ears flicked back slightly at the idea of attacking the Dragon’s Throat first. They did not agree to that. With a malicious rumble of his voice, Archibald spoke to both the general and the lady in one fell swoop, "Ktulu and I have gone over complete transaction plans, and I warn you, should you attack the Dragon’s Throat and break the terms of this contract, you will not enjoy the results.” Archibald hoped they would listen to the warning and take it to mind, for his warriors would fight mercilessly for either side. Should these leaders take action against the desert, Archibald could not promise them safety—in fact, he could only promise them the opposite. Loretta, feeling Archibald’s stern nature as well as Tinek’s rolling emotions, took a step forward with her head low and ears pressed forward domineeringly. Her amber gaze fixed straight on the small hellhound that clung to the glass-horn, her haunches beginning to rise slowly. Stay put. Archibald’s mental command was simple, but it was all the bitch needed. She did not understand politics and she did not pretend to—she only knew enemy and ally. Today, she could not decipher which these Basin unicorns were.  |
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
please tag me
