Raymond hopped on three legs until he could face Toro properly, his face still clouded with battle-haze and scrubbed clean of any projections of rage, satisfaction, or regret. The pain in his hindquarters was a real and living thing, burning with every heartbeat that tried in vain to pump blood through severed arteries and feed wounded, hungry muscles. He took that pain with a warrior's equanimity. If not him, then someone else. If not now, then some other day.
Wounds happen. Wounds heal.
Toro had come out of it undoubtedly worse, purple and red added to his white like the work of an impressionist painting. His eyes burned with hate, as though he had not asked for the hand he was dealt.
Toro cursed the red stallion and he narrowed his eyes in returned, ears flattening only briefly before his lips pulled into a grin.
"You might want to reconsider that combat training," Raymond replied, choosing on principle not to dignify the white stallion's profanity with a direct response. He wasn't angry. Toro had asked to see him in action and had seen it; if he was not made of stern enough stuff then that was his fault. At the very least, he had spirit, which means he wasn't a completely lost cause. Limping gingerly past Toro, the red stallion tilted his head, clicking his tongue in a self-satisfied farewell. "Just let me know."
With that, he made his way back south, toward the Arma mountains.
Wounds happen. Wounds heal.
Toro had come out of it undoubtedly worse, purple and red added to his white like the work of an impressionist painting. His eyes burned with hate, as though he had not asked for the hand he was dealt.
Toro cursed the red stallion and he narrowed his eyes in returned, ears flattening only briefly before his lips pulled into a grin.
"You might want to reconsider that combat training," Raymond replied, choosing on principle not to dignify the white stallion's profanity with a direct response. He wasn't angry. Toro had asked to see him in action and had seen it; if he was not made of stern enough stuff then that was his fault. At the very least, he had spirit, which means he wasn't a completely lost cause. Limping gingerly past Toro, the red stallion tilted his head, clicking his tongue in a self-satisfied farewell. "Just let me know."
With that, he made his way back south, toward the Arma mountains.
Raymond.
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
@El Toro | just a closer <3 great fight!
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
