VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

The stocky shieldmaiden was angry.

It had been one thing to be claimed by a novichak prince who seemed incapable of commanding the respect that he was due. That was a situation that the Yakut might have worked with, had tried to work with by defying him to show him what such forbearance would bring him. The only way to gain strength, after all, was to build it. But the red mare's plan had not gone as she'd hoped. Instead of seizing the opportunity to show her his spine, the boy Ironclad had battered the polinitsa with words instead of the blows she had yearned for, then stormed off like a sulky child.

Denied the outlet a battle might have provided her emotions, Valka waited for Ironclad's return as grief and bitterness continued to build within her.

At one point, the Yakut finally broke down and picked a fight with the first creature to wander too close. Doubtless the sight of a diminutive mare running off a much larger stallion provided a hilarious distraction to the other equines who had been present in the Falls, but Valka was given a more respectful berth after that incident. At least until Ironclad returned to lead his claim to the sea, this time ensuring that she followed. Her Prince was learning - or so Valka believed.

Their arrival on Atlantis quickly dispelled the stocky mare of that notion. This island to which Ironclad had brought her was clearly not his home - and once they were ashore, he took no more notice of her existence. Instead he turned his attention to a pale-maned stallion who had come forth to meet him, exchanging words that were spoken too quickly for Valka to understand. And then he was turning back the way they had come, flinging himself into the sea once again. Leaving her behind as she stood on the shore with her shaggy winter coat still dripping onto the sand.

It took only a moment for Valka to make the connection that she was being handed off like a sack of goods. She had taken part in her share of captive exchanges following a battle and the dismissive language of Ironclad's body - not to mention the finality of his departure - was reminiscent of these transactions. A blaze of anger thawed her doubt-frozen limbs, and the mealy chestnut surged after him with a snap of her teeth. But the adolescent stallion was too far away for Valka to strike out at him physically, so she had to settle for throwing curses after his retreating figure. "Otva`li, mudak!" The fluffy creature spat, lifting her stout body into the air. "Idi k chertu!"

Gravity inevitably forced Valka's front hooves back down -and in that same moment, a wave of saltwater hit her square in the face. No, she wasn't simply angry anymore, the fiery polinitsa decided. She was furious. The Yakut spun around, dark eyes seeking out her captor - but the stallion with whom Ironclad had conversed had since disappeared. Valka shook as much moisture as she could from her sodden coat, causing it to point straight out in strange, spiky formations. Then she stalked up the beach in shameful defeat to join the rest of Rougaru's trinkets, pausing to hover uncertainly near the painted mare who stood about the same height as her.

Whatever her opnion of the current circumstances might be, it would seem that this sweltering hell was Valka's new home.