“The morning needs to offer more fucking coffee,” He quips back to the God, his singular eye squinting and deeply unimpressed with everything that Solis has thus far offered. They move like a singular unit, the most cohesion the Court has likely ever shown, and if the description of the Elks are familiar to the monochromatic stallion, he doesn’t show it -- only gives Teiran a thin-lipped glare for how doubtful she had been when he had first mentioned the elks to her. He stares the herd down for a brief moment, calculating their rag-tag odds against the massive beasts, and for a moment he longs for the armor he’d worn for so long -- but there was no time now to fetch his armor, and a battle awaited. There’s anticipation curling through his veins like smoke, and he offers a bared-teeth smile to the bull-like stallion who is already doubting. “We hit ‘em where it hurts,” and he’s moving forward in a flowing mass of muscles and summoned rage, teeth bared and eye gleaming in the overhead sun, charging through the snow as though it doesn’t hinder him any -- this is something he’s familiar with, blood-lust and battle-rage, and with every stride he grows more sure of himself until he’s colliding with one of the smaller elks on the edge of the herd in a flurry of hooves and teeth. |
teiran pls leash ur casualty
