Lucifer of the Dunes

And my dice aren't weighted.

Laying on the ground with pain coloring every nerve in his body, Lucifer barely registers when others arrive. His eyes are held so tightly closed that he can see white marks from the pressure he feels. His ears are tucked tight against his poll as his face is twisted in agony. It had been a very long time since he felt pain to this degree. Last time, it was Arroyo leaving the damage to his hind leg. It would never fully heal, just like his shoulder, but it was better now. The Dunes was probably the worst territory for him to hold given what his body is like these days, but you would never see him willingly give it away.

Body shuddering, pain filled, and anger fueled, Lucifer finally registers someone when a mare speaks. Cracking open one crimson eye, he locks it on the young woman. Seeing a pale woman of gold and white, Lucifer is forced to remember the fact Rieva was not here. She looked similar, but not enough to fully make him ask that name. Instead, he rolls his eye just enough to barely see the stallion with the mare. Seeing two horses on different scales of the color spectrum, he has to bite his tongue to hold in the angry words he wishes to speak. The mare's words light something inside of him, but he knew he could not lash out. He was not in the state physically or mentally to take on that kind of movement.

Rolling onto his stomach, the black brute hisses as his shoulder cracks and pops. The bones were angry, same with the muscle, tendon, and anything else he could not name. Rolling his eyes again, but this time in pain, he shudders out agonized breaths before he rocks forward to place his hind hooves under him. Using those as his leverage, the shire cross manages to rise from the damp soil. Once he's on all four hooves, he sways. The one injured would not move correctly, which made it weak and useless. As he tries to hold himself on it, he stumbles forward before forcing himself to rest on the good one. “I won't harm you or him. I apologize for stumbling into this territory.” Every word was bit out with pain, but no anger even if he felt it. Nodding his head towards the Forest, he groaned slightly before hanging his head. WIth his forelock and thick mane hanging around his face, the stallion's words turned a bit muffled. “I was headed to my sister.”

Stallion ─ 18.0 hands ─ Black ─ Demon King of The Dunes