Common

Isla was not unaware of the man's subtle shifts. The way he seemed ready to defend himself, as if she were likely to throw hooves at him here in the middle of the Commons. And the way he smirked, so confident in himself. It made her uneasy in her core, but she refused to back down. Vadim might have stolen much of her spark and confidence, but Grier's stubbornness was written into her bones.

"I did not." She said crisply, dark-tipped ears tucked against her poll as she met his stare with her own, her gaze flinty and unyielding. Isla had heard of the Inlet, although she'd never traveled so far north on her own. Grier's stories of Tinuvel had been brief and mostly unpleasant, centered around the Bay and the sire that Isla had never met. She and the rest of the herd had been captured by Rougaru before her mother gave birth, and so she'd grown up learning of Atlantis first, then Luthien, and then Salem.

Tinuvel, despite being her birthright, had never claimed her home and neither had her father.

It was not his inability to understand her, but the way that he said it - implying that he would make no effort for her to even try - that rubbed her immediately the wrong way. Her fur bristled and her jaw clenched again as she searched for a way to extricate herself from this situation. What had happened to all of the men like Ori and Zevulun? Why could she never find them anymore? Hell, she'd even take Enya - who had been brusque and coarse but at least friendly - over this.

Even the way he compared her to his mother using size was uncomfortable. She was not sure if he was attempting to imply that he would also destroy her through childbirth, or just in general, but she doubted his intentions were kind in bringing it up. It made her stomach swim uneasily and her tail clamp more firmly across her hindquarters.

"A shame." She answered through gritted teeth, her newfound distaste creeping through her tone. A shame the world took his mother instead of him,, she finished the thought, but kept it to herself. The name he'd given rang bells of recognition in her mind, but not any that were personal to her. She knew of Ironclad, as she knew of Warsaw, for their notoriety as rulers of Tinuvel. The last rumor she'd caught had placed Ironclad somewhere on Atlantis, but that mattered little to the roan. "I dinna suppose ye'd be persuaded to turn your gaze elsewhere, no? To a lass more your age."

And demeanor. She finished the thought, shifting her weight to take a step backward. She suspected she already knew his answer owing to his clear and intentional desire to show her he would not bother to understand her, but she had to try. She would not wilt and obey as she had when Vadim forced her to the Lagoon.

She would fight.