Lo mataré.I'll kill him. Switch's face wrinkled into a snarl as she stared sourly into the distance, her posture stiff as she weathered the first wave of early morning nausea.

It was as if her body knew sooner this time. As if it had her experience with Fuego to draw upon, and wanted to waste no time in making the bastardo's claim of her body evident to the whole world. Either that, or her delusions were affecting reality. It made her more sensitive, more irritated, more anxious. It robbed her of her sleep - although whether this was due to her rising anger or the pregnancy itself remained to be seen.

And now it was making her sick to her stomach.

She hovered irritably in her sanctuary, unwilling to go out into the Lagoon proper with the fall season still underway. Despite her accumulating surety of her condition, Switch knew that the season had not fully faded from her body and that there was more than one cabrón out there that wouldn't mind trying his luck. The little golden colt had all but attempted to threaten that selfsame thing after all. From here - almost fully separate from the Lagoon proper and it's overwhelming stallion musk - Switch hid. And raged.

The 'clearing' she called her own was less natural and more designed, the outer edges worn down by her irritated pacing and the center worn bare from her restless nights. The only one she had ever brought here had been her beloved niño, and that had been months ago.

So when she hears movement nearby, her first reaction is not to look up hopefully for the long-lost sight of her beloved. No, it is to glare balefully into the darkness with ears that pin beneath the silken tangle of her mane and to bare her teeth against the perceived threat.

Her fierce posture does not relent when the threat reveals itself to be Fiero, the man with whom she would give her to life wholly and unreservedly if he should ask. Carajo.Fuck. If anything, her hostile posture - languid and coiled like a panther about to spring - stiffens as he inches closer. Switch, he says, and a part of her yields entirely without meaning to. Her name in his mouth makes her want to melt into him again, to find the familiar planes of his body and curl into them as she once had. But she could see just by looking at him that he was no longer the soft, affectionate boy she had once fallen for. He was a man now, his body muscled and trim from his sparring with the bachelors, and her heart fluttered with a strange mix of nostalgia and lust.

"Bastardo,""Bastard." Her voice is a low snarl, but she makes no move to get away from him, not when half of her heart is begging her to close the distance herself. The lithe black mare stays still as he reaches for her, with only her skin shuddering beneath the silk-soft touch of his muzzle. At least, she is still until his sultry voice dips low, chastising her for the catboy's lingering scent. She reacts wordlessly, her dark eyes glittering beneath the thick fringe of her forelock, and dips down to bite - with as much force as she can muster - on the point of his stifle if she can.

At nearly the same time, the handsome dunalino wraps his neck over her slender body as if to claim her in the same primal way that Khajiit had and she reacts before she can think of the consequences. Driven by the lingering sense of guilt and the fading of her heat, instinct drives her hindquarters down to duck beneath his chin and away with a hiss the slips from her lips. The slender mare dances nimbly a few steps away, her body prickling with anger and lust and desire and guilt.

"Liar, liar," she chides, her eyes glittering as she halts a few feet away, her skin still shivering from the after-effects of his touch. "You cannot harvest a garden you haven't tilled, mi amor." As if to accentuate her statement, one slender foreleg stamps down in emphasis.

"If you truly loved me, cabróndumbass, you would not have left me to fend off these pendejosassholes alone. For years." Emboldened by her own anger, which had been bottled ever since Fiero had delivered them to the Lagoon and then promptly abandoned them to the swamp, Switch stalked forward again, fearless in the face of his larger size and dominant physique. "¿Estás jugando?Are you kidding me? You do not deserve to look at me, mi amor, let alone judge me."

Riled by her own words, she spits at the ground beneath his hooves, as if daring him to say anything to the contrary. To call her out for her own infidelity, as subtle as it may yet be. She had hoped that the touch of the strange Lagoon men would spur her beloved into something. Loving her. Hating her. Just fucking looking at her would be nice these days.

But it had gone too far, and she could not take it back. The least he could do was be mad about it, rather than smug.

mare // paso fino // black // 14.3hh // lagoon // loveinspired