| Ktulu when the sky turns gray and everything is screaming
i will reach inside just to find my heart is beating
The tension was palpable and wholly uncomfortable, though it was not something that Ktulu was unsued to. During her time in Helovia as both Chieftess and General others had often tiptoed around her, which had only served to increase the tension. But now, as the stallion she stood next to spoke in his odd manner, her crimson gaze slid toward the other stallion, who was inching closer. He was the main source of tension, she thought. He held himself like he was looking for a fight. A few weeks ago she would have given him exactly that, if only to put him in his place and make herself known as being dominant Now, however, she didn't care. Let him look for a fight, he'd have to find it elsewhere.
"Oblivion?"
The other stallion had finally spoke, but it was only to mistake her for someone else. One ear fell back, but she made no other move to reciprocate his tentative greeting. "No." She replied evenly. "The only Oblivion I've heard of is long dead." He had been a like a ghost story that parents told their children to keep them from sneaking away during the night. Stay here or the DemonKing will eat you up. Don't go into those woods, Oblivion is there. Whether or not they were thinking of the same oblivion was another story entirely.
"No." Ktulu replied in response, her tone almost solemn. She supposed that battle itself could be considered a dance. There was skill and technique required to avoid injury and, at the same time, deliver blows to your enemy. The Night Court's dancers moved with careless abandon. For anyone to fight with the same principle in mind would only lead to injury and defeat. Moves had to be calculated and precise, split second decisions had to be made to avoid injury and help ensure victory. You couldn't realize you had screwed up and laugh it off then join in again like a dancer could. So no, she was not a dancer. She could never be a dancer. And she never wanted to be one. "Do you?"
Apollo's arrival was a blessing in disguise. The tension she had felt standing with the two unknow stallions began to melt away as she looked at the painted man. "Apollo." She said his name, her voice low. He looked ... troubled? Worried? Intimidated? Her tail flicked against her hocks as she tried to decide what the expression on his face meant, but in the end it was his voice that made up her mind. He sounded unsure of himself, so she settled on intimidated, though she didn't know what for. She spared Ammon and Plague each a glance before moving off to join Apollo. "You found me." Came her reply as she moved closer. "Something wrong?"
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