He was twice her age but he didn't feel guilty for what he had done. The night had been long and the both of them had been through something crazy together that no one else would ever understand, and, one thing lead to another and they resorted to their more primitive natures. He just never thought himself a man virile enough to Sire a foal -- with his neighbor's wife. Wasn't there something in the Bible about this? Arcus would ponder that one later for sure,

If there is a Hell. Buddy, you're in it. Arcus stopped his roaming and perked his head up at sudden realization of his mind's affirmation. Was this Hell? His eyes shifted back towards Alacran (Gone, where did she go now?) then back to Bleu who was not far behind him, the wind picked up and screamed through the scraggy cliffsides, the grass hissed loudly as they waved around, he smelled the rain just moments before it started to come down on them -- a full on torrential downpour. Arcus' eyes disappeared quickly behind a curly thick mop of black bangs, his head hung at half mast as he waited out the worst of it quietly beside Bleu.

"One hell of a night, yeah?" He said, knowing already that everything Bleu had ever known had caved in on her. It was a look he had seen too many times in his life to mistake it for anything else.

"We don't have to talk about it right now. You should really try to sleep and sort it all out over time -- there is no rush. We only live as fast as we die."

That last phrase left a sour note on his tongue -- he was not ashamed to correct himself and did so quite proudly.

"I just mean...don't run before you can walk....don't run with scissors--" A phrase he had heard Alacran use before but not knowing what it meant. The word 'scissors' as foreign to him as 'halter'.

"I don't even know what scissors are -- but they sound terrifying." Arcus then said, nudging her gently to try and climb to the higher stead where there was a foxhole cave tall enough for them to wiggle into, his mind wandering far on the whereabouts of the younger mare already.

A R C U S
Love of love written by the broken hearted, love of life written by the dead.