She is beautiful in her fury, a writhing mass of striking hooves and wrathful vengeance. I'd be replaying this fight in my head for many days to come - ostensibly, of course, to learn to defend myself better, but also because there was something entrancing about the valkyrie unleashed. Beauty, however, does not lessen the sting of anger that comes from being wholly dethroned from my position as Marauder of the Lagoon. It should have been a harder fight. I should have been more careful. But shoulds would not erase what had happened, and so I continued to turn my wrath on her.

She pushes back against the accusation of heroics and I offer a bitter snort as an answer because yes, in fact, I did very much think that was what this was about. My fury only ignites further when she calls me her trinket, although I cannot deny there is a flash of pride in there that is somehow, inextricably, tied up with her success. I should not be proud of her achievements, especially because they are often at odds with my own, but there is a part of me that has purely and thoroughly gone insane, apparently.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," I growl, sullen, as I lift my head and turn to face her more fully. And she will, I can tell. Her gaze rakes along my sweat and dirt-streaked body in a way that feels… different than usual. It's not quite lust, but not quite not. Something different, and therefore it puts me on edge as she abruptly changes the temperature and topic of the conversation. My eyes narrow as she stalks closer and the urge to latch my teeth onto some part of that svelte body is so strong that I clench my jaw to stem it. Her sides have thinned as well, indicating that the child she'd been on the brink of birthing as I attempted to steal her again had been delivered somewhere else, somewhere away from me once more.

The memory of Vogue's face, of how she'd smiled when I'd shown an inkling of interest in her child played in my mind and I shoved it away. Khar'pern was not so sentimental, and even if she was, I hardly doubted it was me she wanted around the kid anyway given how carefully she'd hidden away the first.

Reluctantly I turn to face her, immensely suspicious of this change of topic. "Funnily enough, there's plenty of places to talk that don't involve me losing my rank and my mares going unguarded." I say, my tone even despite the anger flickering in my eyes. Even as I say it, I know the odds of the two of us meeting on neutral ground to speak calmly are laughably small. Our language was that of bared teeth beneath velvet kisses, of striking hooves after gentle embraces.

Talking wasn't exactly our strength.

"But by all means, have the podium now, Khar." I say, still angry. There is a solid chance I will calm down as we continue to talk, but the defeat is still so fresh, the wounds still weeping, the loss of my rank and position and influence and home so loud in my ears that it's hard to have any desire to focus on whatever it is that she wants.

Stallion - Young Adult - 15.2 - Brown Overo