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

The battle of wills on Luthien’s beach was mercifully brief, though the aging stallion was not naive enough to believe that their war was over. No, it was evident enough to Rade in the chocolate mare’s smile that her reign of willful defiance was only just beginning. But so long as her attempts to undermine and aggravate the golden roan kept her within the Lagoon’s boundaries, he could care less what lengths she went to in their execution. Still, it was only a small comfort when the trinket’s glare broke away from his dispassionate gaze, and she turned sullenly back to the sea. The swim to Luthien had been enough to spread a web of fire across the nerves of his injured shoulder, and Rade still had the swim back to the Crossing to face. Feeling quite frankly too old for this crap, the palomino bit back a sigh as he trailed along in Nyimara’s wake— walking with stiff-legged strides that served to disguise his slight limp.

As expected, the moment they emerge onto the Lagoon’s shore the harpy rounded on him. Whether she intended to intimidate or simply annoy Rade with her cutting words and bared teeth, he could not be certain. But either way, he waited with benign patience until she was silent— much like a parent might wait for an overtired child to finish their tantrum. Only then did the Boss speak, shaking the saltwater from his dusted coat with a single vigorous motion as he did. “I expect not,” he began, stilling and eyeing the silver bay with a dispassion matched only by that in his voice. “After all, I am— as you so succinctly pointed out— old, and not likely to outlast you. But you need not fear my inevitable demise, as there are plenty of others here who will see to your care after I am gone.”

Rolling his shoulders forward indifferently, Rade did not wait to hear whether or not his defiant companion would have a venom-barbed retort ready for him. Instead, he stepped around her with as little regard as he might give a boulder or half-exposed root— treating the nameless mare as nothing more than a minor annoyance, an obstacle in his path. Shoulder throbbing, he stalked off into the shadows of the Lagoon with a dismissive flick of his ivory tail and no intention whatsoever of being stopped. As far as the Lagoon’s golden Boss was concerned, the effort he had expended in returning Nyimara back to her proper home was more than the sum of her worth. If she wanted a target for her ire, then she could seek out one that possessed more forbearance and time.

Rade had more pressing matters to attend to than the whims of women.

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