Before Freya and the wolf-creature can respond, the scent of a brother fills Taboo’s nostrils. His attention is diverted, horns rising from their prone position, leaving the tangled mass of mane in order to flip up and forward. The sloshing sound of another approaching tails the scent, the once slack waters rippling as their brethren are disturbed. Finally the brindled frame, contained in lavender and navy hues, comes into view. Nostrils flare in a huffing snort, a curt greeting sent in the Paparazzi’s direction. He did not know the odd-colored beast as well as he should have, but the bonds of brotherhood weigh heavily between them. Grulla weight shifts, hooves altering position, smoldering gaze returned to Freya. The golden fae had yet to respond with her own title, thus Paparazzi’s question goes unanswered, hanging in the air between the trio. Again, another joins their gathering, yet another familiar form. The Guardian of Courant emerges from the gloom, the telltale sound of splashing water preceding his approach. Taboo return’s Synyster’s nod of greeting, skull rotating to send a baleful glance in Fenrir’s direction, as the hulking predator was growing with each new arrival, menace held in his dark gaze. For moments he holds the shape-shifter’s own pools, before returning his gaze Freya, a response finally falling from her lips.
He had not expected so many to show so quickly. The Rajput kingdom had been empty for so long, nary a soul, save for his own, marking the terrain. He had never been to the Valkyrie jungle but, judging by the current and obvious lack of estrogen, the warrior mares had fared no better than their male counterparts. Taboo’s senses are alerted again as even more begin to approach. Head cranks to full mast, golden eyes seeking out the newest member of their impromptu gathering. It is an unfamiliar form that greets his scrutiny, though the flames of Paduan lick along the beast’s spine, weaving in and out of his man. A sardonic smile threatens to tug at his lips, his own, arrogant ruby clamoring to release its own flames. A frown crosses his features as Broken Dreams finally eases to a halt, his attentions captivated by the golden Freya. Strange. Nary a word for the other stallions falls from the gray beast’s lips, his thoughts seemingly replaced with an infatuated countenance. Finally, the queen arrives, his poll dipping slightly in a greeting of respect. Roped musculature shifts again, the sodden earth sucking at his hooves. Ears find themselves laced back once again, the first tingle of discomfort razing his mind. So much was up in the air, so much at stake. Rhone had disappeared before the floodwaters had even come, leaving the Rajput kingdom far emptier than it had ever been in the time that Taboo had resided there. A snort twists his nostrils, quiet contemplation now on his face as Sasha begins to speak.
As her tones fall by the wayside, his gaze roams about, their hidden depths alight with interest, gauging the other’s reaction. Gray matter turns, a mass of thoughts, well-thought words finally falling from his lips. I cannot speak for my Rajput brothers, but I believe that the best decision is to let the past be just that, the past. I cannot attest to the whims of the deities, my dealings with them are far from numerous, but if we are to reside in Scythia together, there is but only one choice. We work together. As to who we align ourselves with… His own words fall quietly, a steely edge held beneath their tones. He had put his opinion forth without a second thought. His own smirk, sardonic in nature, meets the queen’s, skull then turning to face Paparazzi and Synyster, a question alighting on his forehead.
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