The bravado he displays when facing off against the frosted stallion is more than likely pointless. And yet, some ingrained part of him refuses to back down, even as another stallion appears from the thick undergrowth of shadows.

Fluted ears perk forward as blue-green eyes divert from the chocolate beast to let a criticizing eye roam over the painted stud. ’...careful with that tongue pup…. Or we might just cut it out…’ the stallion’s chosen entrance into the conversation raises the level of fury smoldering inside him. Paperthin nostrils flare to release a dramatic snort of derision as eyes roll in their sockets. ”No one asked you so butt out.” he quips. Lean muscles beneath his creamy gold coat tense even further. He can almost feel the fine hairs along his spine bristling at the veiled warnings and disguised threats that hang in the bachelor's throats.

It is clear that somewhere in the hierarchy, the frosted male holds some level of power by the way the white patched brute reaches to touch the chocolate shoulder and shift his gaze between them. How high up that ladder, Cahyr is not sure…. At least, not until the bastard begins to speak again.

This time, the droll in the silver-haired beast’s voice is unamused. Bored even. No matter how imposing the creamy boy intended to make himself, no matter how cold and defiant, the pair seems immune. Clearly, they were familiar with the type.

What grabs the Desert prince’s attention is the stallion’s last words…. ’...sulk here for the rest of eternity…’ Eternity.

Had mother known that when she sent him here? That had not exactly been part of her conversation with him. Like a waking nightmare, the cream stallion feels the shivering chill that races along his spine. Never see the miles and miles of Desert again? Never see mother? Father? His siblings? (even if some were not quite high up on his priority list) Was he willing to risk spending his years stuck here with the stench of rotting leaf litter and salty brine for mere pride? No. As much as the very thought left a bitter taste on his tongue, Cahyr was not willing to risk that.

But his pride….

Even as he forces the tension to loosen from his muscles, the cream colored stallion exhales another sharp breath. ”I dont remember being asked.” he grumbles, his alabaster whipcord lashing irritably at the fog of gnats hovering around his mud-splattered knees.

Proudly, he lifts his chin, blue-green eyes meeting the jade colored ooids of the frosted stallion. ”My name is Cahyr. Son of Asmodeus and Nyimara. Heir to Salem.” He proclaims as clearly and unwavering as possible. That last bit was perhaps a bit of a stretch, but that didn’t mean these stallions knew that. Or that they needed to know that. If anything, maybe that would give him some sort of pull among the ranks here and gain him his freedom even faster. It also could have a counter effect, but Cahyr refused to think about that right now.

Multi-faceted eyes narrow on the pair, flitting from one to the other as he squares his shoulders in determination. ”Now you know me. So who are you?” he quips, forcing his voice to remain even and unwavering despite the flavor of sarcasm and anger that begs for release. Freedom. If that meant having to rein in his tongue for the time being, then so be it. Freedom. That was the bigger picture.

CAHYR

firebringer son of the Desert sands & LAGOON soldier