What kind of pagan country is this? Only wonders wildly to himself as he shoots through the marketplace with all the agility of an experienced purse snatcher in New York City. He is quite athletic too, it helps to clear the largest fires he has to leap through Mission Impossible style just to gather slack between him and the storm that is coming up behind him fast.
What category do you think she is? Stephan coolly wonders in the back of his mind. Only would do better if his conscience just shut his filthy pie hole - just kept his stupid trap shut in a time like this because it would be better for his own focus. While Only tries to think about an exit Stephan continues his ponderings outloud about Aislinn.
Category 3? Category 4? She's going to take you apart like a mobile home park on the coastline - you know that right? His doubt rises in him faster than he can run. For a moment he wonders what he is truly trying to outrun. Cops? Horses? Hurricanes?
He doesn't know - so he keeps going. Faster and faster and faster, Aislinn keeps up. He cannot believe that someone else is as fast as he is - that they are just as persistent too.
That girl is kind of cute. Get her name for me. Stephan teases in the back of his mind but Only ignores him.
Aislinn is kind of cute though.
He runs as fast as he can until his lungs and legs are burning. Maybe he is tired or maybe it is the heat off of all of the fires he laughingly leaps through (an oddly happy laugh at that) - he bumps shoulders and cuts through the crowds gathered around the largest fire he has seen all night. He makes a spectacle of himself by dashing through it, the animal he is trapped inside squeals with some pain as hot coals singe the bottoms of his golden feet. With one spring he is out but his hooves scream in pain when he lands his foolish attempt with fire. With one glance back he realized that Aislinn is gone, he lost her at last, he dashes painfully into the shadows to reassess his situation which seems to only be growing worse.
He waits in the shadows, golden eyes watching, waiting, wondering if he'll get away with it. The stones rattle against his adrenaline-rich skin. His muscles hum and vibrate under sleek black skin, his heart is an idling engine - his body a getaway car hiding in an alley and waiting for the blue stink to pass him up. A moment passes by and he sees no one, the scene is assessed and a judgment is made. Only steps out into the firelight with caution - his eyes looking out, not up. What he doesn't know is that these are crows that this old cat is playing with. Wiley, methodical, cunning birds that are just as smart and just as dangerous as he is.
That is when he realizes that his assailant has tricked him. Aislinn comes down hard in front of his direct path all feathers and fury (did her hooves just spark against the stone? no - not possible) he distracts himself with her feet, stepping back-back-back to stay away from the threat.
But that is when Lavinia catches him too.
"Oh."
Give what is mine back, and maybe, just maybe I won't kill you.
Where has he heard that before?
Only throws the basket filled stones from his neck, he'd put his hands up if he had them but all he has is his voice - but even then there is something about Aislinn that makes a shrew out of him.
"Night king?" He hears himself say. He smells something here that is vaguely familiar to him, something about Florentine yada-yada-yada, but he cannot be too sure. There is no where else to run or hide, only to fight - but that will come only if his life is at stake. The stallion looks serpentine in the dark, the cuts on his face suggesting that he has recently been in an altercation. Where he comes from, no one will truly know, he has been crouching low in Ruris and covering his Delumine roots well. "Take your stupid rocks. I was just trying to figure out -"
Figure out what? Only cannot put a name to the things that Stephan knows. His mind draws a blank.
"Just take them back. I'm sorry." His will to stay strong crumbles, Only is so weak. Stephan sighs in disappointment somewhere and Only lowers his head looking shameful.
"Kill me." It is more of a challenge than a request, somehow the tone of his voice suggests that he means nothing that he says.
.only
si vis pacem para bellum
There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
For many are called but few are chosen.
