to live and burn is
the most exquisite form of self destruction

The golden stallion could sense time slipping away from him in more than ways than one.

As spring neared its end, the birth of summer was evidenced in the scorching air. Rade, too, smoldered, though the heat that he knew was internal; a boiling of blood and burning of lungs that were born of inaction. Though the stallions were captives here, the chains that held them were tenuous at best. The Vulcans demanded little of the bachelors save their presence - allowing the Lagoon's true power to slip through their grasp with each day that passed. Soon they would be free to return to their home on the southern end of the Crossing, where their leader would undoubtedly convince them that vengeance was not only their right, but also their responsibility. As long as Cullen remained Boss, the roan could only be certain of one truth, born of the similarities that they shared: his son could never accept anything less than victory, and as such the war would never end.

Launching his lean figure down the mountainside with the reckless abandon of one who might have been born here, Rade was determined to be dormant no longer. The stallion swept by the shelf of rock upon which he'd once stood, surrounded by those whom he'd once considered his enemies. They had all but spit on the terms that he'd offered, as generous as they had been. Rade had nursed the wounds of his pride for many days after, but their dismissal meant little to him now. He had given the Vulcans more than enough time to act. It was time to make his own move, regardless of what that might incite amongst the sisters' ranks.

With one final leap that carried him over the rounded mass of a boulder lying prone in his path, the palomino arrived at the base of the Peak. Lungs and limbs both ached from the exertion, but it was a welcome pain, and one that he could bear far more easily than the potential of failure. With slow and deliberate strides he approached the scattered figures of the Peak's prisoners, steadfastly ignoring the couple Vulcans who stood watch over them. They appeared to take as little notice of him, continuing their idle activities as if the roan was not worthy of their vigilance. For once, the anticipated scorn suited Rade just fine.

If there was one thing that his experience with the Vulcans had taught him, it was that the power of one's persuasion weakened with each individual present. This time he did not invite, but instead approached. Those on the outskirts of the loosely-gathered bachelors were his target; though those towards the center were more likely to be the individuals of power and influence, Rade suspected that they would be the most loyal to Cullen; lieutenants and commanders of the present-day Lagoon. It was those on the periphery who stood a greater chance of hearing him out. Some might have stood there willingly, as reluctant participants in the war or perhaps even those who had been strongly against it. But even those who had participated willingly would be the lowest-ranked, the least important... and the most open to a change in leadership if it furthered their own ambitions.

Their personal motivations mattered little to Rade. It was their willing rebellion that he sought.

stallion . twenty-one . palomino roan . mustang mix . 15.1hh
debonaire x neassa