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She swivelled in an instant; storm-cloud mane swirling and twisting to life above the reach of her crest, glossy feathers rippling as the rough wind lifted them from their bed. She was a figure of mystery, of beauty to behold- still nothing seemed to Hector to be finer than feminine fierceness in the face of danger. He gazed down upon her, auburn eyes ablaze with unchecked interest and expanding intrigue, and as hers lifted typically in defence, so too did the ochre stallion’s; stirred to act by the surge of her own surprise. He could feel a sneer rising through the mind of his ill-behaved mind; it felt like a guilty smear across his conscience, a flutter of evil through an adolescent heart. Neither suited him though, and he pressed heavily against the creature he could not see with all the weight of his steadfast integrity. Hector again nodded as the lines of tension; of readiness and athleticism, began to soften across her.
He was captivated, fascinated by her (testosterone flowed remorselessly through pulsing veins- it was unavoidable), though he admired the gracefulness she portrayed with caution because her kind were as volatile as they were attractive. Many that he had tangled with in the past, of her same gender, hid beneath their alluring masks, venom waiting to strike the simplicity of a masculine mind. She spoke then, few words sliding from the motion of her dark lips, but they explained amply and easily the reason for her absence.
Lost… Hector mused in silence; he asked not how or why, such was unnecessary and quite in the past.
Vesta closed the distance he had left so deliberately then, sliding forward and stirring the loose clay-powder to rise and plume delicately around each long, charcoal-shroud limb. The wind swept it from her unmercifully. His eyes caught the movement and were drawn down rapidly, distracting his thoughts until her soft breath neared his neck; teal eyes so close as she fiddled unnervingly with the tousled tendrils of his silky, golden-red mane. The stallion stood motionless, drawn to her as equally as he was unsettled by her nearness. Should the Heart have been basking beneath any true sunlight, surely sweat would have broken instantly between the dim grooves of his body.
Almost as quickly, she had recoiled, and it was all he could do to hold back the wander of his flared nostrils as they tried eagerly to follow.
He propped dutifully, shaking literally the inappropriate sway of his attention from his sleek hide, long brawny tail flicking sharply behind. She began to talk; to explain even, he gathered, and Hector’s keen ears swivelled towards her to listen- certainly, it would turn into a revelation he had least expected. Vesta told him through well bridled emotion that she had suffered nightmares of some sort; terrible memories haunting her both night and day, and his heart (though primarily hard and resilient), mellowed as she continued, though comfort and console were not skills he found ease wielding.
As she glanced from him, fiery eyes remained fixed to the her pretty face; the black powdered nose, and those dancing shadows as she turned from the fire, bestowing a wildly sinister glamour upon her. She continued, and he bristled like an unruly student brought to task.
"I’ve known fear enough to haunt sleep." Hector offered on cue, but not nearly as generously or easily as she had spilt the wrath of her mind to him. A sturdy wall he had crafted around himself since the troubles of his youth; shattered confidence and worthlessness a gravity he had spent years overcoming, and possibly he had not the ability now to offer anything but the stiff-faced concern he showed her. Certainly his care was rarely given out- should she have been a damsel from anywhere else; he might have scoffed at her floundering.
Instead, the twice horned stallion lowered the regal stance of his skull towards her, feeding off the intimacy she had already proffered. Tentatively, sinew throughout his body wrought plainly with the caution pounding through his heart, the soldier moved to press his maw against her- to remind her that she held a place with them, in Dragon’s Throat, and that she was indeed safe.
He pulled back after a moment, and offered a small smile.
When Vesta shook then, Hector shifted also across his legs, adjusting his weight to spread evenly and cleared his throat- all too happy to resume his rigidness.
"The northern Unicorns were returned to their squaller. They were foolish to think themselves a greater force then we or our allies." He snorted gruffly.
"Kri left us without word last Tallsun, and has not been seen since. Midas lifted Gaucho in her stead with much disquiet stirred among the ranks. But no sooner had he be set upon the throne, we were all sent by our Lord of the sun to cower beneath the ground," He gestured briskly with a reaching, bouncing face towards the murky gape of the caves entrance.
"down there. Through Orangemoon and Frostfall just passed, all of Helovia was stricken by some plague which turned those we call friends and family into ravenous, decaying ghouls. It has been a terrible time."
After which he reiterated earnestly-
"I am so glad you have returned."
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