Damage had not been intended when lean legs had struck out towards the face of the painted bastard that had intruded on her personal time. It was merely a warning, a promise of pain should he get too cocky. A need to push him away, far away from her. Resistance is felt from her left hoof as she clips him, and the mare is nearly disappointed that more has not been touched. For Lakota is far from being a lady, and enjoyed blood and battle like a fairer maiden would enjoy a beautiful summer day. She was a creature of the dark, both inside and out. Thrived in the shadows, thirsted for the cries of those who could never fully stand up to her. For Lakota had nothing to lose, and death was laughable. She’d already lost everything, in the most horrific ways possible. Death would be embraced like an old friend, where she would meet her lost lover and accept her favored spot in the depths of hell. He cackles as she turns to face him, ears blending into long black tendrils of mane. Even so her face is vapid, impassive. He doesn’t affect her, and he’s arrogant for thinking so. Stupid for believing even further that such childish games could ever warrant more than a cold glance or a nice thrashing. His laughter however is stifled when she hisses that she was close to poisoning him. Something akin to interest flickered in his irises and she returned it with a cold, narrowed gaze that spoke truth. They locked eyes and she never glanced away, daring him to say something stupid.

Oh gods, please say something stupid so I can crush your fucking skull into the ground.

Okay, so Lakota didn’t have the best of thoughts.

Crown tilted, gazing at her in an almost curious manner. Snorting she tossed her forelock to regard him with an arrogant look that promised pain should he wish it. Lakota despised wasting energy on filthy vermin like him, but if he pushed her far enough she wouldn’t hesitate to bring forth the mists that brought vengeance upon her foes. That poisoned them through even the tiniest of inhalations; burned their very lungs to the point of withering away. Both of them are interrupted in their showdown of gazes by the appearance of- oh yay, another stick head! Though this one comes to her aid. True to the unheard thoughts of Nadira, Lakota does turn her eyes to the pretty femme. Looking her over once before rolling her eyes and returning her gaze to Naberius. Teeth grit, showing that she is irritated with the both of them. Though far less the ethereal woman at her side than the arrogant little child. Before she can help it she snorts at her following words. So, leaping into a conversation and taking a side of what is clearly a tense situation isn’t intruding or disturbing them?

Lakota didn’t care that he insulted the other female, and in fact a sparkle of dark amusement flickered to life. Beside it was a protective urge that came from years of being an older sister, and she wished to rip his horn off and ram it into his testicles before tearing his heart out with it. At least, that’s what she would have done if he’d said such things to Hana. The thought of that ever happening only raised the danger that swirled in violet depths, reflecting both the amusement and the warning that he was treading on dangerous ground. Lakota does not defend Nadira. She is a grown female, she can defend herself. That, and she is not part of the Grey. That means her protection is not warranted.

When he snaps at her she laughs. Truly laughs. A hissing, dark sound that is cold and impersonal. Irises flare to life at the idea of a challenge and she smirks at him cruelly. His smirk is returning and she is grinning like a maniac that has scented blood. "A sense of humor? Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing!” Again she laughs, and she towers to her full height. Lean muscles ripple and scars lighten under the pale, ghostly light that surrounds the swamp. She’s not to be played with, but he is certainly making this amusing for her. "A sense of humor is for those whose blood will stain the ground, because it is a weakness. And darling? I don’t fucking shut my mouth. And I’m not one of those bitches that waves their asses at stallions hoping for a taste of carnal pleasure. I don’t need to be fucking pretty. All I need is to be able to rip your throat out with my teeth.” Shrugging as if it didn’t bother her at all, the thought of it. She advances, head lowering in a herding motion that has existed in the world of horses for eons. Teeth bare, but smirk remains at the edges. Ears remained pinned as if glued, and the femme has completely disappeared to her. "I would watch you wither away as my poison worked through your veins with joy, but you’re just a waste of energy you little snot. Why should I waste my immortal gifts on the likes of you?” Oh, he’s older. But he acts like a child, and so she shall treat him as such. Crown raises and she is impassive once more, though she is smirking. Daring him to do something.