Tears glint against the red stallion’s cheeks as he swirls away, welling and rolling and leaving dark tracks on the fine crimson fur. Fell’s anger falters, again, much to his frustration; the affect of this intruder on the black Bay stallion is like water on a circuit board. Fell flickers, shorts out in confusion, before the rage shines brightly again. Each time his fury returns, it is with such strength as to make up for the time it had flickered out.

There is something wrong with this creature. His original feeling of something being off evolves into a certainty as Fell fights with the intruder (or tries to, anyway). He recoils, the stranger’s voice entering his ears despite his attempts to bury them so deeply in his neck that no sound may reach. The words themselves are clear, but strung together in ways that make little sense to Fell. He seems to be talking more to himself than the Marwari, but when he falls silent, something changes in his face.

It is at this point Fell realizes that his initial thought of something being wrong had not come from any deeper sense, but from the scent of the stallion himself. There is something off about his smell; he does not have the same heavy musk as other stallions. It is still distinctly male, just… less.

Fell takes a step back. He is still taut with aggression, and part of him is even more motivated to put this mad creature down, but the motivation is nearly coming from a place of pity, and that throws him off. His eyes rove the face of the stranger, and find that it is no longer empty, but dark. Storm clouds have gathered in the far-away gaze, and he feels the red creature’s focus gathering like a static charge. Fell feels no remorse for his violence towards the stallion, but he does begin to recognize that he had misstepped. The stallion may have been harmless before, but perhaps no longer; had Fell finally provoked him?

The Marwari steels himself, truly unfamiliar with any kind of defensive strategies in battle. He is clever, but the rage within him nearly always blots out any kind of rational thinking; he may understand that a diplomatic solution would be better in dealing with this particular problem, but he isn’t about to actually try it. And anyway, what kind of diplomat can’t even fucking speak? His face wrinkles in a silent snarl, and he snorts from flared nostrils, ready for whatever beast he has awoken in the strange red stallion.

FELL

stallion. 16hh. black. marwari x. Rougaru x visurix.