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The rhetorical question that barked from the blue mare’s lips made Romani realize that her words had no effect. Inhaling deeply, azure eyes narrowed slightly, ears swiveling back, but she didn’t lower them to her skull. She was a warrior, not a diplomat, yet Romani was discovering on more and more occasions that her words were a greater weapon than her hooves or teeth. One hoof raised, as if it’s own accord, and stamped down upon the ground, granules of sand puffing up in a cloud of white only to fall back down and rest upon the ground, some grains landing upon her hooves. The breeze around them picked up, somewhat chilly from streaming off the tops of the ocean, and toyed with the strands of her ivory mane, forelock dancing cumbersomely in front of her intense gaze.
“Eternally we can be wherever we want to be, Miss,” she said formally once more, her tone shifting somewhat in challenge. While Romani didn’t turn aggressive, she was growing tired of Unicorn’s trying to walk all over her, simply because she didn’t have a horn upon her head. “We can even be everywhere, if you’d like, for don’t we leave pieces of ourselves across the land that we traverse? We also take pieces of those lands with us, when we leave. Like this beach, for example… It will always have a part of me, and you, and I will always have a part of it.”
It was this haughty mare’s final question that caused the Haflinger’s ears to finally turn back, pressing back against her skull. Her facial expression, however, remained the same, but her azure eyes turned icy with cool indifference. “Yes.” The Foothills Warrior stated without shame, simply lifting her head higher, “Only a fool would ignore their fear, Miss. Fear and instinct is what has saved our ancestors for years; yours and mine.”
Romani did not claim to know this creature before her, or know what made her tick the way that she did. Perhaps it was an ingrown racism that drove Larkspur to anger, from years and years of manipulation? The thought of it made the palomino pity the shadowed mare. Poor thing…
“If a spar is what you want, Miss, then I won’t turn you down, but my only consolation is that the victor takes nothing, and the loser gives nothing. Very well?”
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