Well this has been a fine, failed experiment in a more moderate approach to the Commons. If it wasn’t irritating enough to be interrupted by the Peak (when he had done nothing wrong), now he has to deal with Marceline’s silly little child. Rafe listens to the words bandying about, flicks his gaze over the mare once more and decides this isn’t worth the effort. She’s pretty, sure, and claims to be all about action but right now there’s no action and simply a ridiculous amount of talking. No strange little red mare is worth a fight. He can’t help but snort out a laugh when the spotted stallion asks what makes for substance, and rolls his eyes before murmuring, “Certainly stalking your mother and clinging desperately to her tail for even a hint of relevance is a good start.” Rafe looks him over in amusement and drawls, “Didn’t you have to kidnap your younger brother to get her attention? How does it feel, knowing your own blood finds you so irrelevant?”
The golden Peak mare had said something too, but Rafe…really doesn’t care. Generally, he tunes her kind out. Hopefully Klara explaining the truth of the matter to her mother, the illustrious, hypocritical Peak leader, will have them off his back. But still, he finds that herd as a whole insufferable. Their unending need to force their own views of life on others. Their newfound audaciousness at naming themselves some sort of….protection force for the whole of the islands is irritating. Why spend even a moment figuring out the reality of a matter? Why let a mare have a choice in her own future? They’re as big of bullies as the herd stallions they claim to protect against - only they are so biased they can’t see it.
He glances to the mare he had originally approached and shrugs laconically before murmuring, “I didn’t come to listen to pious little mares proselytize about the evils of my existence, and I certainly didn’t come to deal with an errant colt with too high an opinion of himself. You’ve heard where I live. If you tire of words, you know where to find me.”