WHEN YOU'RE FEELING MEAN
His glittering eyes followed the blade, slicing the air in a graceful motion. Grace was one of the few things Toro could recognize was his; he knew long legs and airy movements were not possessed by many and he held them close to his heart. If he could not be victorious, he would walk away like a slow dancer. He had other assets, he knew - his father was proud of Toro's horns, curving into points of bone that could gore a man if needed - if they were ever used for such a thing. The pegasi would use their wings against him. He never used his horns. He would win with a disadvantage or he wouldn't win at all.
"I don't know that I'd call it a weapon of choice, but it's certainly an excellent Plan B." Toro briefly wondered if Raymond was of a similar ilk, foregoing the use of his sharpest points for even or tilted ground, but doubted it; he could not see this stallion's confidence resting in the use of a sharpened tail. But perhaps, if he stood on weak foundation. He wouldn't want Raymond asking the question of him, so he didn't speak at all.
"You looking for combat training?" Toro narrowed his gaze. "Do I look like I need it?" His tone went sour fast. An interest in bladed tails was no invitation for instruction. Unsolicited. And it suggested such- "Unless you're interested in showing me Plan B."
@Raymond
"What I say,"
What I think,
@Raymond
"What I say,"
What I think,
