Even as she stalked toward him, all lion hunger and aggression, the red stallion stood almost sedately in the place he'd occupied on her arrival, his expression watchfully unreadable as he took measure of her.
The unicorn may have been closer to him than anyone after Ruth, but there was never a moment that passed that he did not view her as a threat. Even friendly dogs bite; even still waters drown - and Calliope was neither of these.
The tapping of her horn against stone counted out the time before the tsunami of her anger broke against his shores. He hardly moved, grey eyes fixed upon blue, the imperiously sharp lines of his body arranged with immovable self-assurance. He gambled that the swarthy mare would no more run him through than he would open her throat, and in that gamble he turned out to be correct.
She halted before him, and for the briefest fraction of a moment the silence between them stretched like a thunderclap, then -
"Calliope!"
The smile stretching over his lips, the jovial tone of his voice were incongruous next to her seething, roiling emotion. He tilted his head invitingly and knew without caring that he was playing with the fires of her temper. He felt wholly justified in his actions, especially given the result, and not even Calliope's fury could provoke him to shame.
"You got my note." Of course she got his note. "This place is something else, isn't it? The decor is a bit much, but I'm sure something can be done about that now."
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Calliope
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
