The words of the honey-dipped steed fell upon deaf ears - Azzuen would hear no slander against his name, nor that of his Leader. His presence had been consumed by his family, but he was always swift to tend to his duties at the appropriate times - perhaps it led others to view him as more of a silent warrior, one who steps up only when needed - but wasn't that the most important thing of all? He was always there, for his family, for his herd, whenever they needed him. Was that not enough?

Dry amusement, cold and cruel, masks his façade as he watches his magic work. They try to stand against it, to resist, but none of them succeed. He makes his point, and his Leader's words penetrate the black ears that lie flat against his nape. Folding his wings back to his side, he abruptly contains his magic. The air crackles with the restrained static, his mane stands on end, his tail lashes at his sides. Yes, he is angry. Would they not be angry had the reverse just happened to them?

To Azzuen's dismay, others actually arrive, they actually support this fool. They are blinded, he can only assume, blinded by false promises. They were leaving something grand, a herd that had proven themselves time and time again to be the strongest in all of Helovia.

They would be all the stronger once this filth took their pathetic carcasses and excuses away.

"Our members may make friends with whomever they please; they are welcome to come and go as they like. What is not allowed, is your presence upon our lands. There is a multitude of wilds to the north; why choose a land you have abandoned to call to your friends? IF they truly were your friends, they would have heard your call no matter where you stood." The voice that offered the words was calm, polite even - a vast contrast to his previous tones. The change in his tone made them all the more serious, however, and his ears did not rise from their graves amidst his wild, dreadlocked mane.

For one who had once stood as Leader, albeit only a short time, he sure had a fucked up view of the rules. Azzuen snorted harshly; Leander's appointment as Leader had been the first thing Kri had done to make him question his loyalty to her. She had taken care of the fool, however, and had subsequently defended herself from another intruder who thought she could wrest the crown from her mighty head.

It was in silence now that the stallion stood, crimson eyes rolling about their sockets as they viewed those who would be defecting. They might not know him, but he had been guarding these borders since the Tuuli invaded; they were all vaguely familiar, at least enough to know that they had once been of the same herd.

Now they were all strangers.

"Go earn yourselves the right to a home; then perhaps, we might talk again." The advice was given quietly, almost tiredly. Electricity still crackled around him, but his magic did not rise again; he was giving them a choice now. Would they stand and attempt to talk further on lands they had openly abandoned? Or would they grow some brains, and take refuge elsewhere, to scheme their petty band?

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