The winds had changed, directing the mare's sweet, untainted aroma to the predator's swelled naves. He watched her fluid movements with a calculating stare, trying to discern whether or not this gentle creature would be worth his time. She showed no signs of any abnormalities -- her lowered head did not bear a horn, and her back did not house a pair of monstrous wings -- but the beast was hesitant about approaching her. She looked to be young and healthy, which was a bonus, but her health and her youth also let the brute know that she had taken part in few battles, if not any at all. He may be hard pressed for recruits, but he wanted willing, battle-ready warriors that would be prepared to run alongside him in wars that were sure to come. The buckskin had many plans in store for this land, and he could not afford to waste time recruiting the weak or simple-minded. Nonetheless, he was still looking for someone to bear him a few foals, and the vixen grazing in the clearing before him looked to be well-built and sturdy -- traits that he wanted to pass on to his child heirs.

Shaking out his body in anticipation, the quarter horse snapped his tail across his flanks and brought his head up in a friendly, authoritative manner. His long stride spoke of confidence and agility, his pale hooves covering ground in a rather timely fashion. Moments ago he had been on the other side of the small meadow, carefully watching his prey, but now he had almost made it to her side, and his gaze raked over her dappled architecture. Perhaps I was wrong. The vixen is more than just sturdy; she is strong and well-put together, with a scar -- Perhaps she has taken part in a number of spars? -- branded on her shoulder; long legs held up her light frame, but with a power and finesse that the brute almost admired. Those legs will carry her far, I'm sure, and are most-likely capable of out dancing even the quickest of soldiers. She may lack in brute strength, but perception and agility both play considerable roles when locked in battle with another. His musings about the onyx mare's potential were cut short by his own will, as he was more concerned about recruiting her in the present than he was in looking forward to an unsure future.

Without a word, the throne less king signaled to his dog to stay where he was; his companion hadn't moved from his spot among the trees since his master had glided into the clearing, but the brute just wanted to make sure that he did not scare the dappled fae away with his presence. Blue eyes rested on amber ones as he spoke in his low voice, calculating each move that the equine made in response to his introduction. "Good evening, young lady. What is a fine creature such as yourself doing in the Threshold at this hour? Oh, and do excuse my manners, my name is Ricochet. And what is yours?"


"Ricochet speaks"

The stocky buckskin found himself enthralled by her mystique, swinging his head up to peer over his sooty withers to watch the mare as she circled him. His crisp ebony locks fell over his eyes, providing a well enough curtain for him to hide his lust behind. Her gentle caresses against his flanks made him shiver with need, but he knew that he had not come here for that. The smoky mare was proving to be a wonderful play toy, yes, but he had plenty of time to go searching for more suitable mares to fulfill his needs. She had the boldness that he was looking for in warriors, not in mates, but he might as well enjoy the fun.

In a low, husky voice, the stallion answered, "There is only one mare for me." Stamping one of his fore hooves in excitement at yet another one of her soft touches, the quarter horse wheeled around on his back legs to face her, playfully nipping at her wither, trying to coax her continue playing his game. "I journey here some nights to recruit members for my Empire; we strive to rid the world of all its monstrosities. Perhaps... you would consider joining?"

After his attempt to nuzzle her mane, Ricochet began to circle the mare himself, trying to add to the dark and seductive atmosphere that the pair had managed creating. This might not have been how he had planned to claim the smoke-dusted vixen, but he was certainly enjoying himself. Stallions might be cursed with a brain between their legs, but the buckskin knew when it was time to keep himself in check.

Let's just not get too carried away. I don't want to have to deal with a pregnant wench coming after me once she's been left alone in the night. Teal eyes flickered to the edge of the moonlit meadow to the dog sitting there, almost warning the mutt that he had better interfere before things got out of hand, or else he'd be dealing with the fae himself.

{OOC:: Crap post. I had no idea what to write in response to this. Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?}
"Ricochet speaks"