Hooves clattered and bodies neared, the pegasus swung with impressive footing and when the Nightshade stopped he snorted annoyance at himself. The swamp moaned and murky water splashed, the stranger regained his balance and sprang forward away from d'Artagnan, Aramis now well out of the way and by his side. Gilded eyes glowering, heckles springing up along his back and a low growl rumbling from his gut. Curled ears pinned back. The excitement died down and now d'Artagnan faced the stranger, bitterness in his mouth. He missed. Normally, he would say nothing and simply double back on himself and try a different attack, but not here. In the marshes one wrong move could have you singing carols with the dead at the bottom of a sickly pool. Not something the shade wanted to be doing.

Tail flicked and he spoke above the growls, eyes piercing and simmering with red warning signs. A smile played on grey lips "the hell? Just trying to rid the world of another pathetic creature. But it seems I am denied blood yet again, that's some footwork you have" low, unsympathetic was his voice. Something about the scent of this stag told him of no familiar herd, no arid smell of the Dragons Throat like that little colt and his armoured father. Nothing familiar from his former and rightful home of the Edge and most certainly not cowardly enough to be of the Foothills.

No.

He was like that other mare. The equine of no distinct scent who screamed for her life as it was taken from her. Covered in her own bodily fluid he had simply killed her in cold blood, did she even have a family? He didn't care, no one had come for her, no one had tried to save her. Much to the Nighshade's delight she had left the world without even a hint of fight in her. Worthless being. d'Artagnan was a racist animal, he hated all without a horn though usually kept to hateful words and threats of violence. It was in these moments that the madness came out, the ringing in his head put there by endless beating from his father. Drove insane for his inadequacy. If one truly knew d'Artagnan, would they have so much hate for him? Did anyone really know the Nightshade?

The Time Mender would beg to differ, but he wanted no sympathetic words. No mushy sentiments of 'I understand that feeling'. He just wanted the contradictory. Death and peace. Eyes narrowed and head tilted "do you normally roam alone?"

[ooc; sorry for your wait. <3]