The subtle mirth in Faolain’s voice and expression is short-lived. As she comments about the migratory birds all congregating on the tropical Atlantis for the season, a golden figure slithers up behind Aallotar and presses into her. Faolain’s face is immediately wiped blank once again, and she stands as still as a stone save for the flattening of her ears into her mane, the only indication that she is not happy. Her dark eyes follow Cullen’s movements; his presence is threatening, not to Faolain for the potential of bringing home new members, but to her new companions and their freedom. She specifically dislikes the invasion of Ally’s space, and lets out a quiet hiss of disgust. When the Lagoon stallion speaks, Faolain allows one ear to emerge from her inky mane to listen.
As Cullen and Fearghas discuss the terms of Aallotar’s freedom, Faolain listens and does not speak. Her dark eyes shift between the three others, but they mostly remain on Cullen, her gaze cold and calculating. She does not like the way he talks about either of them, but especially Aallotar, as though she is a commodity, useful only for carrying the next generation of colts to fill the Lagoon’s ranks or fillies to be traded. When he finally introduces himself to Faolain, she knows that despite the acknowledgment of her leadership, he does harbor any more respect for her than he does for the Paso Fino.
”Faolain,” she offers cooly, her gaze sweeping over him before meeting his eyes and holding them. If you wish to free this mare without the price of her next born son then you will have to fight me for her and win, he says, and the black mare nods curtly. ”That would be preferable to the sacrifice of a child,” she says. ”Though I’m sure you feel differently. You stand to gain much more from the other deal. I’m not sure why you would offer up this one.” She returns her gaze to Aallotar, ignoring Cullen’s stomped hoof, but it is Fearghas’s voice who draws her attention as he proposes yet another deal to the Lagoon boss.
It’s better than taking a colt from the grulla mare, Faolain thinks, but she is beyond thinking of fair deals. Cullen does not, in her mind, deserve a fair deal; he deserves to lose his precious trinkets, and the loyalty of his recruits. There are others that belong in the Lagoon with men like Cullen, and Fearghas is not one of them.
But there is nothing she can do about it now. She turns to Ally as the silver mare apologizes, and her expression softens. ”It’s alright,” she says with a dry chuckle. ”It comes with the title.” The warmth she had awarded Aallotar quickly disappears as her gaze returns to Cullen, replaced by something close to impatience. She is stuck for the time being, but she aches to challenge the old stallion, even if she stood to gain nothing by it.
”I’m not interested in playing games with you, Cullen,” she says smoothly, her voice devoid of expression. ”I will take my leave. If you can work out an acceptable deal for the freedom of either, they are welcome to come to the Ridge if they choose. If they still wish to leave come spring, and you have not settled on a fair deal for their freedom, I will fight for both of them.” She turns to Aallotar once again. She knows it is unlikely Fearghas will be able to leave before the spring, but the grulla mare might have more luck with a bargain. ”I will remain on the Crossing for some time. If you find a way out, I will escort you where you wish to go.”
With that, the black mare nods her farewell to Ally and Fearghas and turns away. She itches to fight Cullen, but she knows she must wait; for now, she makes her way in the direction of the Falls to bide her time.