Falls

Solomon

Solomon enjoyed fighting. There was something viscerally enjoyable about the rush of adrenaline, and the feeling of power that came from using your own body to defend yourself. He'd sought out more than his fair share, often taking on those comers that sought more practice even when it was not necessary that he do so.

However, there was something unsettling about watching someone that you care for fight. Knowing the risk that Marzanna, and even Ysabel, faced had made him uneasy and he'd paced for the entire space of their fierce battle, unable to tear his gaze away but also equally unable to stay still. They were careful, for which he was grateful, but their bodies still bore the marks of their determination by the time the dust was settled. Ysabel, the new arrival, had prevailed over his golden queen but not by a wide margin. It seemed her experience had just given her enough of an edge to overcome Marzanna's more powerful build.

But it was not the physical marks that he feared the most.

Solomon had always intended to keep the Sovereign Queen position as one that could be challenged for, in the interest of promoting the same healthy competition that had so strengthened his grandsire's legacy. Positions that were given and left to rot only weakened the entire herd as a whole. Even as he created the role and gifted it to Marzanna at her request, he had assumed that one day someone would challenge her authority. He had not expected the day to come so soon.

Considering the tension that brewed and bubbled over Tinuvel, threatening to spill over its banks, it should have been no surprise that fighting would come to his own doorstep. He had expected a challenge to come to him from Bjorn or Valka, but they remained mute, dealing with their own dramas.

It is the fallout that Solomon is now wary of. He had gone to his golden queen in the wake of the battle, but she had hidden her thoughts from him. She was cold, like the snow that fell in the wake of their battle, and outwardly unbothered but he knew her well enough to know that she was not pleased. Marzanna had made him work to have her in the beginning, and he had no doubt that he would have to work to regain her trust once more.

Still, he did not expect to have to chase her again. They had bargained, once and he had naively believed that to be the end of it, that she would uphold her end as he had, in his own eyes. It rankles him then, to watch her golden figure swim away from him, to know she would already attempt to abandon him after one setback. Was she not as fierce as he had thought? As willing to defend that which she called her own? Did she need to be gifted everything to find herself loyal to him?

He hesitated only long enough to tell Daciana that he was going, so that someone could make the patrols that he could not while he was gone, and plunged into the icy ocean. The frigid embrace of the water was a welcome shock to his system, purging it of the anger that seethed in his bones at the risk she was taking. He took solace in that it was only early winter, before the worst of the snow and the ice could cling to Tinuvel and make swimming any more dangerous than it needed to be. The cold allowed him to try to prepare for the verbal battle that was likely to come next, one that would tax him nearly as much as watching her fight.

He goes first to the Falls, having found her there once before and is relieved to see the stiff set of her shoulders as she settles into spot. She is as beautiful now as she had been the first time, when she had gone toe to toe with him on every field. He remembers his hunger of her clearly, the kind that had led to him to spend weeks upon weeks searching for her after Raider and Bjorn had complicated their meeting. He could feel the lines of fire she had traced over his lean figure when at last he'd found her again and sacrificed to make her his own. Even the joy he had found in their coupling was fresh, overshadowed only by his happiness that her body had quickened with their child. A child that would unite them in the closest way two creatures could be united.

He watches from afar for a long moment, a tumult of emotions swirling in his chest. He was torn in half by twin desires to cradle her against his side and to tear into her with teeth and hoof. To impress upon her the seriousness of the situation, of the fear he felt when she endangered herself like this.

Solomon does neither.

He approaches calmly, although the tumult of his thoughts can be viewed clearly though his emerald eyes. He doesn't immediately react when Ylva beats him to Marzanna, although by the time his hooves finally still before her, he rips his gaze away from the golden queen long enough to incline his head in Ylva's direction. As much as he would like the loyal pink mare to join his herd, he needed Marzana more. Ylva had already listened to his offer, diluted as it was by the presence of Bjorn, and had chosen to remain in the Crossing. It could easily mean that she found him distasteful, or that she was yet to be convinced of his worthiness. Either way, convincing her would have to wait.

Solomon does not reach for her as he wishes to. Somehow he finds himself unsure of her now that they stand close once more. He does not doubt her fierceness, or beauty, or any of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place, but she had come here, to strangers, for comfort. Not to him.

"Marzanna," he says quietly, her voice a caress in his mouth. He offers the next words with a lift to the edge of his lips, but they lack true threat. There is still a chance that she may come back with him, that this detour was only temporary. "It has been a while since I've had to chase you."

Seawater still drips from his figure, sliding down the amber strands of his mane and tail. He stretches forward, the motion confident despite the wary eye he keeps on her for retaliation, and brushes the silk soft skin of her shoulder in a gentle caress. As if emboldened by the touch, he steps forward again so that he can be closer to her once more. She may still lash out at him, he knows, but he is also certain that he was not the only one that felt the pull between them that went far deeper than any bargain they had ever made.

He turns briefly, giving Marzanna a moment of space to address Ylva, his eyes still dark with unspoken emotion. "Good to see you again Ylva. I see you're still calling the Crossing home."

A smile ghosts across his lips briefly before he turns his attention back to Marzanna, waiting to gauge how she would take his approach.

Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano Stallion | 17 Hands | The Cove