Meadow

Asmodeus finds that he enjoys the lightening of the mare's dour expression; interest seemed to spark brightly in her eyes as she considered the words he offered, and he was once again reminded of why he liked leading his herd the way he did. There was something worthwhile in the sharing of strengths, in helping build someone into the best version of themselves. Perhaps Cursed Dreams would take this lesson and go on to become one of the most fearsome warrior mares the islands knew, solidifying her likeness with Marceline and Nyimara and Xiomara and Daciana as one of the greats.

And perhaps she wouldn't.

What she did with the knowledge he was attempting to impart was wholly up to her in the end. Whether she succeeded or failed would be of her own doing, no matter what life eventually brought their way.

Cursed Dreams mentioned her height being a disadvantage and he shook his head calmly. "Not necessarily," he answered, his gaze following her. "Less height means less surface area your opponent can hit. It also means you're likely to be more nimble than most of your opponents." His tail flicked, once again calling on the lessons his parents had drilled into him when he was young. "As a general rule - larger opponents hit harder, but move slower. Smaller opponents hit softer, but get more strikes in, and often in unexpected places. Of course, there's always exceptions, but even my father - a King of an entire island - was once bested by a mare a full foot shorter than him."

She went on to say that she wouldn't normally attack her new territory lead and he chuckled. Practice, in his eyes, was different than a true attack. In practice, you were looking to improve, not just to throw every tool at your disposal at your adversary. In practice you might consistently use the same attack even though it might be expected and lose you the fight, simply because you needed to work on your stance and footwork. In battle? It would be foolish to do the same.

"I will hold no grudge," he promises, readying himself as she prepared her attack. Her eyes locked onto his lower limb, and his own narrowed, surprised she was telegraphing her attack so clearly. He bowed his neck to protect his throat and shifted his weight to his hind end so that he could whip his forehand out of her reach. Her last-minute deviation to grab at his throat was interrupted by his already ducked muzzle and by his moving forehand. If she wanted to take a chunk out of his shoulder, she was welcome to, but he was already moving around her, positioning himself at a perpendicular angle to her.

"You're a natural." He said, and he meant it. His tail lashed again and he nodded. "It will be rare here that you will find throats unguarded, but should you be able to grab one it is a quick way to end a fight." Asmodeus nodded and then squared himself. "Again."

Adult Stallion 16.0HClassic Champagne ChimeraSolomon x Xiomara