But would I run today just to die another day 

   He could not allow himself to be distracted by what he had heard from Sikeax; it would not be fair to himself, nor his fellow warrior waiting for him at the Steppe. Down into the depths did he shove each and every fragment of that conversation, drawing tight around himself an armor casing of apathy towards the destruction of the land of his birth. There would be time to mourn and hunt for answers later, to weep for what he had lost and pray to his dead gods that his family had made it out alive against the odds. He would not dwell on the fact that the Basin was gone, that the Time God had perished along with the rest of Helovia's deities, that his father and sister might not have made-

   'Stop that'.

   He chided himself, taking in a deep breath, deep until his lungs filled fully and his chest almost began to hurt. He held it for a half second, then let loose a quiet sigh, raising his horned skull to the sky, noting the sun's position amongst the pale blue expanse. He was late. The young stallion's pace quickened, ears flicking back slightly in irritation at himself. A longer route had, in unbiased honesty, proven better for what he had learned, but if he arrived late enough to find that Damascus had gone... he doubted he'd live it down for some time. As well, it wouldn't necessarily leave the best impression. He tossed his head, gazing out upon the landscape of the Steppe, searching for the oversized youth... and finding him standing in a dish in the land below him. Words carried on the wind, followed by the black pegasus breaking into a clumsy canter(another reason to dislike wings, they removed all grace). "I thought i'd give you some time to admire the landscape!" He called back, lips parting in a grin as his legs braced and neck arched. He held the high ground, and would hold it as best he was able, but he knew how fluid battle was, how easily positions could be gained and lost with the heaving and clashing of bodies.

   Yet another reason to curl his lip at the winged came to light as the young behemoth flared his wings and fanned them, tossing up dirt and debris in a move so inherently childish that Arluin's grin turned into a scowl, his ears pinning flat against the silver locks of his mane as grit stung at his squinted eyes. It disorientated him enough that he twitched backwards from the onslaught, and felt teeth in a searing flash of white pain grip and tear the hair at his nape, a startled snort ripping from his nostrils. His head twitched, blue eyes opening to scowl blearily at the youth as he tossed his head to try and slap the rump of the upstart pegasus with the flat of his horn, a scolding action he himself had felt often as a child whenever he did wrong. Damascus moved, flinching to the left, a large shadow in his vision, and Arluin twisted slightly, planted his forehooves, and turned his head to keep his eyes on Damascus as he simultaneously flicked his tail towards the other stallion's eyes, hoping to mask the movement of his cloven hoof as he kicked out towards the pegasus's barrel.

   If the kid wanted to fight dirty, Arluin would be more than happy to oblige.

Give up now and every fight has been in vain