Frey had known Azizi since they were both children. It had been… a long time. A long time, and he can track that in his mind. They weren’t close, as boyhood friends– Frey didn’t really have friends, after all. He’d been too sulky, too petulant, too brooding. Still, there’s fondness in his mind. Including the other boy had, at least, come easily. He’d tried where he could without truly going out of his way. Still, he has so much of his own turmoil. Getting involved in anyone else’s… it was too much.

General, now. Did he even have time for turmoil? It’s hard to brood when you’re busy. There was something charming about the way that Orphiel had stepped up, had done his best to beat back the silver witch. He hadn’t won, but an effort is an effort. Maybe Rehoboam would do well with the vacation, too. Still, it’s the scent of that godforsaken woman within the Lagoon too. With a long, slow-suffering sigh, the sooty stallion makes his way to the source.

His eyebrows lift slightly as it becomes clear– Orphiel has come to rebuke her once again. Frey drew to his full height, letting go a deep, rumbling call from his chest. His gaze flashes, ears pinning as he surged forward. There would be no stopping Frey once he started, and it’s not just chase he aims to give. No, he means to strike her with the fullest extent of his weight, of his bulk. Though she is quick, there is power within him. It lives in his bones, in his muscles, a carefully tuned machine.

“What the fuck is your problem, even?” His tone drips venom. Frey is tense, strung tightly. Though the words come with relative calm, there is no mistaking the disdain that runs thick and hot beneath the surface.