A smile slowly pulls at the corners of the sun god’s lips until his grin stretches nearly ear-to-ear, his eyes molten pools of mischievous delight. The turn out and support may be smaller than Solis had expected - but his anticipation of what to come was greater than any disappointment he might have felt. And besides: fewer participants will only increase the odds against them, and thus the chance for glory.
“The dangerous kind,” he answers @El Toro casually, a flip of his head sending his golden mane cascading down his back. “Does that decide things for you?” The white stallion looked like a warrior; Solis was sure the prospect of a hunt would call to him no matter the sort of prey they sought.
“We’ll meet here tomorrow morning - spread the word and come prepared. We have a long day ahead of us.”
Only then does he meet @Mathias' eyes, mirroring all the passion and anger he finds there with his own. He sees the dare, but he is not afraid - he is a god, after all. He would make a believer out of him no matter the cost.
"Is there anything else? Has anyone been to Mors recently?"
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In all honesty, he does not want to fight. It is the sort of thing he agrees to begrudgingly, because he does not know how else to be useful. What else can you do when the dangerous kind of beasts threaten your livelihood?
After all, Eik will never be that good at diplomacy.
(He fears he'll always yield his body better than his words-- he fears, sometimes, there's nothing more he can do but fight, fight fight.
He is so tired of blood.)
"Are you with us." He asks @El Toro, and the saucy tobiano @Mathias, and the scarred man @Jahin and even @Avdotya. His face has hardened into something solemn but faraway-- he's already imagining sprawling sand, and dangerous beasts, and how he'll convince Seraphina to stay behind. He's already hardening and sharpening himself into the blade he (thinks he) must be.
"If you aren't," his voice is a low growl... He feels trapped, feels something-not-himself, "You are against us."
Let them see it in his dark eyes, hear it in his voice: He would not spill blood for his own name. But for solterra and its queen, there is little he wouldn't do.
* I have let myself go where the dust
E I K Has the color of nothing
His teeth bare in a mockery of a smile as the god addresses the crowd.
"Covered in snow, like every-fucking-where else." He answers' thinking longingly of the canyon where he made his home and no one ever bothered him besdes a few cacti and an annoying vulture. His gaze slides to Eik, dismissal already clear in the lines of his face.
"I'm here for no one." He answers, because he'll be damned if he lets another horse try to rule him.
”The dangerous kind. Does that decide things for you?” Toro shivers; some white coal turned over in his ribs. He’s starting to feel…like he should. Real. Alive. A smirk cracks his mouth like marble. ”Sure does.” Toro has no one to spread the word to, but maybe he’ll try this time, maybe he’ll speak up. His lungs feel stronger, his flank seems to sew itself back together. His muscles twitch excitedly, Eik snarling a demand for loyalty, to stand together in a fight that is far more than anything Toro can imagine.
The dark stranger still mouths off to the golden one, but Toro thinks he will be short-lived. Walk the talk, then. I do.
He nods to Solis. ”There’s snow in Mors, not much else.” He feels at a loss for words; he simply wants to move.
The sun god’s smile is unrelenting, vicious in its persistent joy. Eik was with him - and he was sure the Davke would enjoy hunting down the beasts that had destroyed in their home. The smirk on El Toro’s ashy face is enough of a confirmation from him. “Good. We will need every fighter.”
Solis turns to Matthias, his eyes alight with passion and fire. His smile falters, the corners of his lips tipping down into the barest of frowns.
“There’s snow, but there’s something else as well. Tomorrow we will find out what it is that lurks in the desert.”
Solis gives a nod to punctuate his words, dismissing the group.
Tomorrow, he was sure, would prove to be far more exciting. Hunts always were, and it had been so long since he had enjoyed one.
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f you wanna start a fight, you better throw the first punch
If there was anything that the man could call himself, it was a fighter, and it is a delighted sort of smirk that crosses his face as he further ponders how such a hunt might go on. Even so, his gaze is distrustful as he eyes the golden stallion, the sneer on his face deepening.
“And if you’re so divine, why do you need us to handle your problems?”
Even as he speaks, he’s already turning to leave the group behind, to find solitude in the Night Court and escape what seemed to be constant companionship. Not for the first time, he cursed the strange mare who had insisted that he follow her back to the relative safety of the Court -- he missed his desert, the solitude and peace he could find out there.
At least that thrice-damned vulture hadn’t followed him here.
Toro nods at the golden stallion’s words, his skin shivering with anticipation. He wants to go, go, go, his tails twitching excitedly, nostrils flared, tomorrow will be a fight. He wants to know what the “something else” is, to take it between his teeth and prove himself. He will. I will, I will, I will, he thinks, even as the black and white stallion spits bitter words at the golden one, El Toro is dancing in his place, disappearing back into the crowd to test his moves where no one can see. He hasn’t fought anybody since Raymond. He’s itching to get the chance, and his lungs will have to hold up.
Perhaps Eik is a fool to pretend that violence is not his calling.
(Violence the way forward, violence the way behind. The in, the out, the everything.)
You run or you fight, and he is no longer running. His body feels taught with anticipation and dread.
Eik briefly thinks of his friends in the other courts, and he wonders if they too have been gathered by their gods for a hunt. He nods solemnly to El Toro and Solis, Mathias having already turned away (good) and he quietly takes his own leave to prepare for the next day. Tomorrow. The first order of business is to find Seraphina.
We hunt tomorrow.
* I have let myself go where the dust
E I K Has the color of nothing
