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

Peace was a fleeting dream anywhere on the islands— but seldom as short-lived as it was in the Lagoon.

The warmth of spring had lifted some of the stiffness from his joints, but the old stallion still limped as he traced the feminine call to its source. Training with Frey had done the Boss no favors on the front of his failing health, but it couldn’t be helped. The future hinged on boys such as Tyr’s son— on the strength of their bodies, and on the values Rade sought to instill with each lesson. For a long time, the Lagoon’s purpose had been forgotten; left to rot like roots in rain-saturated soil. Now, it was coming full circle again... and in more than one way, it seemed. Flattening his ears at the familiar scent of the young mare who’d challenged him, the bright palomino walked faster, weaving between the trees with a recklessness reminiscent of his youth. Moments later, he emerged from the false twilight of the forest and into the sun-dappled glade that marked his home’s boundary, pausing warily at the sight of the two women who awaited him. Because of course two Vulcans would rise where one had previously fallen.

“Can I help you?” He asked gruffly, gold eyes trailing from one face to the other. What he’d really wanted to say was why the hell are you here, or perhaps even get the hell out, but neither seemed prudent given the situation. Rade was outnumbered and weakened by the ravages of age; provoking a fight for the sake of his pride was just outright insanity. But still, it galled him to extend even this tepid welcome to the creatures who’d chosen to mark themselves as his enemy. He’d tried for peace; he had. But they Vulcans had rejected that peace swiftly, preferring to break before they would even consider bending. And while none of those who had refused him stood here now, the Lagoon’s ruler could not help but to lump these two strangers together with their sisters. For them, nothing but complete supplication would serve— after all, what else could have brought them here to plague him for the second time in as many seasons?

To a degree, the men of the bachelor herd did ask for the trouble that tended to find them. Between the grim determination of its General and the irksome antics of its Marauder, mischief was not a question but an inevitability. Stir in a couple of young stallions looking to learn the skills necessary for building a herd, and it was easy to understand how some feathers might get ruffled along the way. But this hatred that some clung to— and their crusade to erase an important and perhaps even necessary part of their world— was something that went beyond reason. To the scarred roan who was still working to piece together the broken brotherhood Cullen had left in his wake, creatures like Nyimara were no different. The sisters of the Peak in their relentless persecution were no different. But still, the quiet Lagoon— its immoral tendencies tempered by Rade’s pacifism— was vilified over more war-hungry provinces. Why?

It was only a few seconds since he’d first spoken, but Rade was getting impatient with the silence; the impulse to act had always been his greatest flaw. Tipping his head to one side, he snorted harshly, rolling his amber eyes from the dun to the palomino. “Look, for the record, I barely touched her. But if you like, here’s an apology: sorry that you chose to break the peace. And for the record, I’ve already both forgiven you and decided not to retaliate. It’s no more than I expected anyway, and I’ve more important things to worry about— like repairing the damage that Cullen inflicted.” His lip curled sourly around the name and the bitter taste it left in his mouth. Cullen. He was the one who deserved to suffer the consequences of his actions— instead, everyone else was being punished in his stead.

Including Rade. Hell, especially Rade.

stallion . palomino roan . mustang mix . 15.1hh
debonaire x neassa