The harlot was enraged by his idle comments. A satisfied smirk passed over his lips as he hurled out petty names. Racist, sexist, he had heard it all really. Such names meant nothing to him. He let her prattle on and for once he held his tongue. Truly Confutatis’s banter was wearing thin on his patience. How he hoped this mare was everything she claimed to be. Maybe he had finally found a worthy opponent amongst the rats of the earth. Let her show that she was the queen she said she was. Though he vowed to himself, conquered or not, he would not bow to the worthless whore. Whether his blood stained the stones beneath him or not mattered little. It would be a display of power and not of weakness. If the Blood Prince was to die, he would die the warrior he had been raised up to be. He would die like his father, fighting to the end and powerful. Being outnumbered hadn’t stopped the General from fighting a futile war. It hadn’t even stopped Déodat to conjure up a final stand. Hopelessness and fear were no stranger to his heart. This war would be for the comrades who bled out at the hands of skyrats and commoners. This war was for his family, both blood and the Basin.

No movement came from Confutatis, and Déodat watched and waited for her to strike. Memories flashed through his mind of the equines, the cowards who broke their vows and allegiances. Passionate hatred sweltered up inside as he continued to gaze at the mare before him. A hatred not felt specifically toward his foe, but the entire race itself. They were worthless and defective. They were all liars and serpents, waiting for their chance to stab you in the back. Confutatis epitomized every aspect of their disgusting kind. She was everything that had turned upon his clan. Everything in this world that needed to perish.
There battle began, and the mare looked upon him with a look that would make any child bolt in terror. All the passion trapped inside his very essence upon his face. It was a glower, a glare that revealed loathing, rage, and a determination. Her hooves clattered against the stones and they were a song of an oncoming battle. They were two titans who would make a clash that would transcend time.

The Blood Prince moved, not wasting anymore time. He pushed himself toward the right, out of the way of the oncoming mare. Several strands of her tail struck against his neck and did nothing more than cause a slight sting. The first blow a miss and a part of him wished to taunt and jeer at the mare, but it was only the beginning. There was time for her to not only redeem herself, but come back with a crushing fire. Déodat knew full well that what kind of power may lay behind the dark beauty, and there would be no mercy after his harsh words and tongue.

Déodat turned and began to charge after Confutatis, hoping to come up alongside the mare’s right. His hooves clattered against the stones as he attempted to draw nearer to the mare’s right shoulder. He tried to ease his way closer and closer toward the mare’s right shoulder, and he then thrust his weight towards her and attempted to shove his weight into her. Sure, Confutatis was far from short, but he knew he still held the advantage of superior height and perhaps even strength. But there wouldn’t be jumping to any conclusions of course. Should his first blow strike, Déodat then hopefully charged ahead of the mare and flung his hind legs upward in a buck, hoping to strike her chin. Shattering her pretty little face, what a delightful thought it was. Déodat could envision perfectly the blood that would be staining the ground and it would be a sweet sight to behold.

[WC: 659
1/3
Summary: Déodat charges after Confutatis, aiming to come along her right and shove his shoulder into hers. And then attempts to move in front of her, and bucks, hoping to hit his hooves against her chin.]

"talk talk talk"