He totally understood the common mindset that many of the kings had about allowing other males into their homes. It was a good way to welcome trouble, about nine times out of ten the other brutes were attempting to mount mares that were not meant for them or perhaps plotting a mutiny against the one that was above them. It was a good way to invite many different brands of trouble, and that was really what it boiled down to and any wise king was quick to do whatever was needed to eliminate unnecessary mischief or chance or less than desirable threats. Bastille would never have been that sort of overlord, though. Why, might one ask? Well, it all came down to one major factor.... The beast of bronze and bistre simply didn't give a s**t. When he'd ruled over the formerly known Verona, he'd done next to nothing in growing the harem he had. He'd spent most of his days grazing lazily or napping in the sunlight, when he hadn't been spending "quality time" with his precious doveling. In the end, she had been the one and only reason he'd committed his act of treason. Well, along with the fact that both his Larka and the former queen Celeste had decided to make a villain out of him. If there was one way to bring out the wicked ambition Bastille was more than capable of, it was deciding to make an enemy of out of him. You see, he has this efforts talent of becoming whatever it is others decide to see in him. If one were to deem him an ally, then he would happily oblige and make himself a valuable asset and comrade. Make a villain out of him though, and you can bet your bottom dollar you won't be disappointed...

It doesn't take long for the head honcho of the Dale to find him, though he was hardly trying to hide himself. That would defeat his purpose here, after all and he wasn't foolhardy like that. Bastille was many thing; conniving, manipulative, flirtatious, ambitious (on the rare occasion he felt like it), lazy (ninety five percent of the time... heh), but never was he dimwitted or careless. He watched with cool - and yes, almost lazy - eyes as the mealy stallion comes storming around the bend, every thick and chiseled muscle tensed and at the ready. He comes to a slow halt before the beast of bronze and bistre, his words spoken powerfully and almost intimidating (not that such tactics worked with Bastille). Bastille is quick to dip his head respectfully, every seasoned and defines muscle along his own handsome frame about as relaxed as could be.

"I am Bastille, a rogue in search of settlement for myself and my... mate."

Baritones smooth and casual slip from his velvetines.

"I will trade my loyal services as well as mares in exchange, if such things might be of interest to you, Sir Rhaego."

Again, rich vocals sound between the two. They were unfaltering just as his mocha gaze was as it locked with Rhaego's to portray just how serious he was in his offer. Yes, Bastille knew the name of the beast he stood before with hopes of gaining homage. The meadow was filled with gossiping mouths, after all so learning his name has hardly been a difficult feat. He is silent now, eyes and ears trained upon the mealy dun before him though all the while keeping tabs on the feminine scent of the mare that followed him. If Rhaego accepted these terms, he would have his first payment at the ready in a matter of hours and what king would deny such a delicious and purely beneficial trade? Now, all he had to do was wait.


__________________________________________

I'LL GIVE YOU FEELINGS
THAT YOU WON'T WANNA FIGHT
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Bastille : Stallion : 9 years : Lusitano
Seal Brown Cream (Brown Buckskin) [image!] : Two hind socks, thin blaze in the shape of a jagged lightning bolt, starting in a pointed star in the center of his forehead and ending in a thick snip between his nostrils : Ee/A^ta/nCr/nSpl
Herdless : Rouge