It is with great reluctance that Marko finally extracts himself from his corner. He had gotten trapped within earshot of Garmr and Lucifer’s tense exchange, and had assumed it was a private affair until the entirety of the Lagoon and the Peak decided to join in. Oh, he knew Lucifer was trying to escape, and Garmr’s reception — however cold — was a bargain that included acceptance back into the ranks. Marko just didn’t care. Maybe it made him a shitty Lagoon General, but he just could not force himself to reach a hand out to Lucifer. The giant stallion got under his nerves.

When everybody and their brother decided to get involved in Marko’s stead, however, he eventually acknowledged his position and its responsibilities, and resigned to making his presence known.

He slogs toward the group as though dragged by the scruff, not bothering to hide his distaste. His head is slung low on his thick neck, and his lips are curled into a cringing sneer. "For fuck’s sake," he snaps, "have any of you EVER had an adult conversation?" His ears tick back with irritation, and he glares about the group with mutinous ire. Briefly, he acknowledges Rosto, who — as far as he had heard — had not once mentioned ‘toys’ or ‘playthings’. The only one of the lot. "This is embarrassing," he spits.

Muting his glare to something slightly more diplomatic, he skims over the Peak mares. Marko isn’t stupid; he has a healthy fear of the Peak mares, just enough to keep him out of their hair when he’s bored, but his respect for them withers slightly beneath the sour weight of his annoyance. "I agree with Rosto," he offers flatly. "I don’t think anyone here likes Lucifer, but we will, reluctantly, defend him. We’ll kick the shit out of him if it makes you feel any better, but we reserve the right — as long as you sisters are outnumbered — to do that on our own terms." He isn’t sure if he has the authority to make that promise, but his irritation is making him arrogant.

mutt - classic champagne dun tobiano - Lagoon General