No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
A brisk zephyr laced with the bitter chill of snow, alerted the toiling stallion to the arrival of the scarcely familiar shire mare, and his sodden skull lifted from the sludge to view her arrival. Though his fierce tangerine gaze narrowed more out of caution than curiosity, and his nostrils pinched and puffed sharply at the growing taste of her upon the cold air, Hector’s ears were tipped forward enough to alleviate the otherwise unwelcoming expression he had unintentionally adopted. He could easily recall the few times their eyes had fallen upon one another - the Threshold, during the Earth God’s quest - and neither had been terribly encouraging experiences. In fact, it had become quickly apparent that their personalities simply clashed (even despite the wicked influence of one mischievous Boggart)…
Nevertheless, unfortuntely, it seemed that fate again intended for their paths to cross.
A murmur rumbled deep in the cavern of his chest before visible acknowledgement broke the tranquility of the northern steppe. “Afternoon December..." he crooned politely, as un-awkwardly as he could possibly manage, while sinew squirmed apprehensively beneath the glimmering, sweat-drenched pelt. Hector swiftly turned both ear and eye towards his bonded - Veci’s interest had rapidly reached a climax, thoughts spinning with intention - and the stallion made certain to train the creature then, to the spot. Stay put, he instructed firmly, and the Boggart slumped down sullenly; watching and waiting instead.
Horned skull angled afterward to look at the strange animal in the mare’s company. It was peculiar - a stunted horse, with too much hair, a deformed face, and a smugness that set Hector’s consciousness on edge. They were side by side, staring unabashedly his way and he wondered with some reserve (a dash of guilt) if this was December’s substitute for a child. Isara’s decision many months ago had been unfortunate for her - ideal for him, though as he stared candidly at the foal his stomach began to twist beneath waves of nausea. Surely there were less mutant children needing care… he mused grimly, recalling the law of nature - only the fittest survive. He felt almost sorry for this mare; for the babe she had taken in.
Then something more absurd happened…
Did he just…
Veci’s invisible form rose from the snow once more, spurred to life by the potent creature’s rude, crude behaviour. It was intriguing, infuriating, and though he was tempted to retaliate and defend his partner, he held position carefully - a soldier rigid and waiting on the frontline.
Disturbed indeed, but not swayed from nonchalance, Hector realigned his focus onto the pallid mare when she began to speak. Her distress was transparent, written through the pained twitch of her rich eyes, but the copper soldier was little in tune with the feelings and emotions of the complex fairer sex. “Never mind,” he answered carefully, presuming that the actions of her younger was intact the cause of said unease. “Children… they have no filter.” It no more warmed him to refer to the freak-colt as a child of their kind than it did comforting the mare who had been so unjustly hurt by his company previously. His enormous frame swayed in place and he offered a small smile in earnest - even if it was motivated by guilt.
As the wind whipped the silken threads of his shining mane into a frenzy about his regal features, an uncomfortable silence rose between them. The giant was relieved when she spoke again finally, no matter the briefness, and nodded - realising after a moment’s consideration, that it was the pretty paint filly he had left behind she was now referring to. “Isa is quite well,” he offered in short as memory of the ice-spike dulled his tongue - he nodded quickly. “Congratulations,” he offered then, gulping, shifting his eyes beyond December’s form to find the ugly foal again… “So much hair!”
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