Larka could not quite explain it herself, this new sense of self reliance and self worth that had over come her, but it felt good. Paper thin nostrils flare as the chocolate hued stallion scrambles to his feet with an awkward grace that, if not for her anger, she would have laughed. Despite herself amusement tugs at the corners of her lips as he shakes himself and struts towards her. Were he any other, no doubt her ears would have perked at the sight for it was indeed eye catching. A single flute flickers amid the mass of curling black tresses as he closes the distance that separates them.

Flashes of memory flash through her eyes as imagines of a time not so long ago revive in her brain. A time when there had been another with wings of russet brown that would move towards her with such looks of hunger and lust. The feathers on her wings bristle with anticipation as her heart flutters within her chest. His graveled tones break the trance that those memories hold over her but it does nothing to settle the electric jolt of his approach. Though he had touched her time and time again, still the silver girl balks at the thought... at the feel of intoxication that seeps over her and that ever present sense of betrayal she feels after for the red desert king of memories long past. Her lips quiver now as silver blue eyes narrow as he speaks. Ivory teeth clench behind her jowls as the exquisite woman watches him.

She huffs her displeasure as he speaks and resists the urge to snake her neck forward to snap at his hansomly arched neck in anger. "You love a lot of things apparently." she all but hisses as her icy gaze shifts to the young girl standing nearby. Unlike Amaretto, who shared her mother's pale coat, lithe build, and delicately feathered wings, this girl appeared much more like Bastille with her dark chocolate hues and tall conformation.

Unusually long black banner flicks irritable back and forth against the womanly curve of her hips in much the same manner that an irritated mountain cat might show its displeasure at a dinner lost to fate. Truth be told Larka was a bit hurt. In all his time pursuing her and making sure that she, his so called "little dove" remained firmly clipped to his side, she had not even imagined he would find time or desire to father children with other mares.

He moves closer still, his hot fetid breath sending shivers like electric jolts down her spine. He whispers against her pinned ears and my little silver dove resists the urge to lean into his warmth. To savor the intoxication of his touch or the feel of his brawny body against her own. She could not describe it, could not explain it but there is a power he has over her when he is so near. Tiberius had that affect.... but that had been from years of close contact and shared dreams and ambitions. They had been children of Roma together, played together as foals and become heartsung lovers as the years progressed. With Bastille it was different. His very presence was like a drug, one that she was determined to free herself from but forever found herself longing for when his deep rich eyes met her own. "Stop..." she whispers, her voice cracking beneath the effort. A single forelimb paws at the frozen earth underfoot as the pale geisha gives her proud head a shake, sending dark curling locks tumbling haphazardly down the arching curve of her neck. "I am not your dove anymore." she all but growls pivoting her hind quarters to sidle away from his reach.

A coy smirk twists its way across her exquisite features as Larka turns to face him again, silver blue gaze cold and icy as she speaks again. "It seems as if you are an absent father to more than just Amaretto does it not?"