Most of life is a routine- dull and uninteresting, but it is what fuels us. Routine is a present change for Caleb. Everything besides routine is so... unpredictable. It's easier to fall into a regime then it is to live spontaneously. Caleb had slipped away from his duties and schedule once he had learnt of his dead-born child, Quinn. The emotions of the day he learnt he had a daughter, but that she was dead, still plague him today, so he falls back into work. Rigorous and exhausting it may be, his mind remains preoccupied because of it.

And so, he patrols.

The sky is dark; midnight is on the horizon. Caleb lingers near the sentinels briefly, eyes watching the border very cautiously. Henrietta paces back and forth, her wet nose searching for unfamiliar scents. "Henrietta smell nothing," she reports to him through their bond. He scowls slightly, though it can not be seen in the dark. "Continue. Patrol all night," he responds. He wasn't sure Henrietta would last the entire night, and if at some point she grows too weary, she may be dismissed. Caleb, however, is determined to patrol the entire night if he must. Caleb desired greatly to grow into the best warrior possible, even if it meant long nights and rigorous training. He sought to make up for lost time. 

"New smell, I go look," Henrietta announces now, and though Caleb's curiosity piques at the prospect of an intruder, he decides to continue his patrol at the border. "Go investigate," he commands, and not a moment later the dog is padding off, her nose towards the ground. The dark beast is sure nothing will come of Henrietta's findings, though he remains on high alert.

His gargantuan wings unfold, and even under the pale moonlight, the ebony feathers seem almost iridescent- similar to a raven's. With a few calm flaps of these appendages along with a forward motion, the stallion is airborne. He easily glides above the sentinels, a black shadow against a black sky, he is camouflaged well. As he gains altitude, he also gains speed. The beast is silent in the air, a secret weapon to those that believe that the Basin is strictly unicorn, no hybrids.

He continues his flight, taking extra care in keeping vigilant. Shortly after he takes flight, Henrietta updates him on her situation, claiming it was a false alarm (exactly what Caleb suspected), but she does not return. She finds Tiberius (his son) and Zunden (the dam) and sleeps with them. When a substantial amount of time passes and Caleb's wings grow weary, he descends, quietly landing once more on the partially melted snow.

He patrols on hoof once again.

Patrolling is not a particularly interesting job, but it does have it's moments. The night is quiet, and Caleb has adjusted well to it so when he hears a female voice screeching and yelling it is more than surprising. His ears twist away from the sound and a scowl marks his features. He could've heard her even if she had whispered as quietly as possible. It is his corporal, Sialia. Caleb had always thought her to be calm and level-headed, so to hear her voice booming across the land meant it had to be serious.

His scowl is fleeting and his face returns to it's neutral coldness. As everything quiets down once more, his ears twist forward. He approaches her at a decent rate, deciding that he should move to her quickly instead of leisurely. "Corporal," he greets, though it is not welcoming and warm, but suspicious as to why Sialia has approached him in the way she has.

Caleb assumes Sialia's anger stems from his sudden disappearance. He does not know how to make it up to her, nor does he know if he can. On his mind lingered one question. Have the other soldiers showed up since Caleb had last met with Sialia? The dark hybrid had seen a couple when Ashamin and d'Artagnan had held a meeting, but other then that he had seen none. That meeting (which had been held quite some time ago) had been the last he'd seen of any warriors. Caleb knows the lack of other warriors does not compensate for his own absence.

Though it had only been mere seconds into the encounter, Caleb was in awe. He liked that she wasn't afraid to demand things of him (even if her demand was to stand in front of her). No mare here had really given him an order. Even though Caleb felt a certain dread going into this conversation, having an idea about what she will scold him for, he still found her... kind of amazingly attractive. Though he may never act on it, he was far from hesitant about admiring from a respectable distance. 

Even though admiring with skin-to-skin contact is doubly great for him.

Her eyes are cold. Their vibrancy remains in tact, despite the frost that lingers within them like cancer. Caleb's eyes meet hers without hesitation, their own coldness like daggers to the soul. It was easy for him to see himself in her. They were both entities created from darkness (or it seemed so to the hybrid). Both of the babes are draped in midnight, startlingly contrasting chrome decorated their horned craniums and thick legs. Perhaps Sialia wasn't as brutishly primal as the hybrid, both they both threw demands at others, expected excellence and discipline.

She circles him, and all it does is entice him. He could reach out and bite her meaty ass. His eyes scan over her entire body as she moves around him, his feathered tail flicking back and forth like a serpent. His weight shifts to one sides, muscles rippling in response- just what he wanted. He could show off some, right?

"I honestly meant no disrespect to you," his voice is impossibly indescribable. The softness of his words would suggest submission, yet the tone suggests calmness, but the words he chooses will possibly seem... unfitting. Perhaps he should've stayed quiet. "Though my absence in this most recent meeting is absurdly inappropriate, I will make it up to you." He is not afraid of Sialia-- he respects her. He doesn't give a fuck about Ki'irha, however. She never made any attempts to meet him.

"Caleb, to be frank, you're fucked." He hoped he'd be fucked. The brute knows she does not speak of the primal act he thinks of, but that damned word just does it for him. "I hope I will be." His words are blunt, to the point, and sharp. Through this whole ordeal, he never fails to continue to watch her. It's a sort of hungry gaze, fueled by his primal attraction. In all honesty, she's as pretty as Rexanna, if not more. Sialia isn't hidden behind complicated layers of lies and deceit. She is as real as it gets. She is so different than the types he'd already been with. Sialia was so fucking exotic compared to the others, even especially in her plainness.

Quickly, the moment is broken as he continues, his thoughts still linger on the idea of them. To Caleb, the tension remains thick, whether it is sexual tension, angry tension, awkward tension... whatever, it lingers like the coldness in her eyes; like cancer. "I will prove to you that I am worthy to be called a warrior. I will patrol constantly, spar constantly. I will do everything in my power to show you that I am a warrior for a reason." Of course, he meant every word, but he didn't exactly want to finish there.

"I can prove a variety of things to you."

She responded harshly, but it did little to deter his steady determination. The dark stag continued to comment innuendos every few moments, the idea of a hot fuck (to put it bluntly) on his mind. His skin writhed with intense heat, hypersensitive to her. Her growl was menacing- oh yes, it was! but he was turned on more than deterred.

A wolffish expression crossed his face, contorting his elegantly masculine features into a more hungry visage. Creases form between largely flared nostrils as his eyes moves along Sialia's muscled body. Silver eyes flicker back to her face when a grin slides across her inky lips. He was not sure if he could trust her, but he could fuck her, that didn't require much trust.

Her words were not registered, he was too focused watching her, examining her, he was not listening. He was beyond listening.

She turned from him, his snout reaching towards her muscled ass as she flicks her tail, each tassel slapping his muzzle like a whip. The sting from her locks is more pleasing than painful. He follows her lustfully.

Sialia's face is not of pale innocence, she is presumably not guileless, nor does her body scream of virginity. She is an older mare. She is experienced, a masterful ring-leader. The sway of her hindquarters as she walks causes him to pick up pace in hopes to catch up with her, to bite her hard ass. Calen has been suffering from these lascivious thoughts since he met her, yes, since their very first introduction, he was just never forward about it, however.

He is... Excited. Being with Sialia, he hoped, would be much more rough and wild than being with Enna or even a temptress like Rexanna. They were both delicate and a large part of Caleb didn't want to break them, thus was more gentle than usual, but with Sialia he could go full-out, had to. The way Sialia spoke about sex was rough, so rough. They would bleed and sweat together- it would be like fighting and fucking at the same time. 

His jaw hung open and reached towards her croup, snapping outwards in hopes to bite down hard on that sensitive part of her body, to bring her to a halt and take her. Under the cover of evergreen leaves and bush, they would have quite the time of their lives. Hopefully.