// let the games begin [Thorny]

[lady shady]

SHEBA

The ghostly mare trotted upwards, tail trailing like a banner behind her. Vici followed closely behind, a pale shadow in his mother's wake. She paused at one of the sparse tufts of grass, at first nibbling daintly at the tips, playing with the frail vegetation, then roughly yanking it from the earth's embrace by the roots. Sheba impatiently allowed the colt to suckle, knowing that they both needed the nourishment for this climb. She flicked her tail, keen eyes scanning the land below them for signs of life. With Vici in tow, there was no time for games. However, what there was time for was business...

While Vici had slept, she had ventured forth in phantom feet, silently skimming over the ground in search of warriors. From the rumors she had overheard on her nightly searches, the war had resumed and Rama was in the West. It was more important than ever that Vici knew how to fight. You wouldn't... a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered before she squashed it forcefully. Secrets would stay in the past, thank you. And she would, for that matter. She would do anything to get what she wanted.

Speaking of secrets... her mind flashed to the night before, the night she had been wandering about in one of the old caves with underground rivers. She had seen a glowing light ahead, and she had heeded its call. At the back of the chamber lay a pool, glowing red, then gold, then a pale white, and above it had been carved a mossy inscription on the damp rock. Being struck with a sudden thirst, she had drunk of the pool deeply. She didn't remember returning to Vici, but all of last night she'd had strange dreams, dreams of living and invincibility, while voices in the ancient tongue promised her just that for the coming years...

Yes, it was strange, and no, she wasn't inclined to believe in magic given her past, but she felt stronger today. Legends that locked away in her mind for years had spilled forth, stories of elixirs and potions given up by the Alpha mares to the wounded soldiers during the great war. She grinned wickedly, remembering. For she was no wounded soldier. She was Sheba and prepared to take advantage of this strange deal of chance.

VICI

His bruised legs ached, but he climbed silently, too weary to question his mother's judgement. When she paused to let him suckle, he gratefully took the opportunity, small tail twitching in pleasure as he drank greedily. It never occurred to him that for most foals, life wasn't like this. He was Vici. While their life would be springtime and new grass and soft rains and gentle sun, his was winter and ice and fighting and blood. He was so young, but this was all he knew. Sometimes he caught himself longing for more, but it was a longing for something that he didn't know. And because he didn't know what it was that he wanted yet didn't have, he tried to drive it from his mind. Perhaps if he did everything his mother told him to, he would find it. What he wanted wasn't warmth, wasn't food, it wasn't a thing persay, it was something he couldn't quite put his hoof on, yet he knew was there. And so he waited silently, occupying his time with his mother's "lessons" and wishing for this thing that was never spoken of and never felt.

--behind the post--
oh, idk.
Sheba needed to find that elixir I bought and so yeah.

[/size]

[Black Thorns]

Scathashoun felt the cold, bitter air bite at his skin as he moved, even through his thick, hardy pelt. He could only imagine what the arabians and thin-skinned ones were doing- were the freezing? It was almost a safe haven up in this area, where the more sensitive of Ramaskith's and Oser's warriors could not trod. He had oftentimes separated from the group- thus, it was a good thing that Ramaskith didn't want him dead. Well, not anymore- initially he had. As he scaled the mountains, he caught a glimpse of a pale, beautiful mare trotting up the nearest one. He had to take a double take- she was so pale, so ghost like that he thought it a hallucination at first. Yet it was not- and even worse, a little one followed her obediently. His ears flattened at this. Never mind wondering how the heck she could survive out in the winter, her delicate arabian form hardly being able to survive the milder climates- let alone the harshest winters of Forma Silvestris. The foal fascinated him- he resembled the mare closely, yet something about him- something he couldn't place. He looked like someone he had seen before...

Scathashoun, you've killed a great many foals and horses- injuring a grand many more. It's bound to look like someone...

Yet his curiosity continued to grow- and then he figured it out. Ramaskith. This was Ramaskith's foal. Well, I'll be damned... The stallion must not hate mares as much as he presumed. See, babies don't happen magically... And likely he did not know about the foal. A slow, devilish smile began to creep up his lips. Oh, he could get his revenge on Ramaskith- and his mate. They would miss their little one, wouldn't they? And they were always so easy to lure away...

Scathashoun picked up the pace, soon reaching eyesight of the foal. He gave a slight jerk of his head, indicating for the foal to follow him. Mommy dearest didn't need to notice- she wouldn't notice, anyways, the way the foal struggled to keep up with her determined pace. What, exactly, was this mare looking for? Sanctuary was not to be found here. She was too small, too frail to fight- so what did she want?

Oh right, she wanted to find her precious lovey-dovey wittle wamaskiwth. He snorted, shaking his head momentarily before making another gesture towards the foal. Yet to his utter surprise, the little one made no attempt to come towards him. He carried on behind his mother, no matter how much Scathashoun urged him to come forwards. Ugh. He'd have to do this the hard way, wouldn't he? Perhaps he could charm the mother, lure her away and destroy her before finally ripping her precious little foal apart. She was heading the wrong way for Rama anyways.

He watched, amused, as the foal struggled to follow his mother. The darling was too dedicated- however, he assumed (perhaps not altogether very smartly) that the foal would do as told. The mother slowed as he watched, offering the perfect opportunity to catch up. He strode up to them easily, ascending the rocky terrain without seeming to strain in the slightest.

"My lady," he said, voice smooth and charming, "It appears that this young one is having difficulty following you..."

[lady shady]

SHEBA

"My lady, it appears as if this young one is having difficulty following you."

Sheba snapped out of her reverie, cursing herself for her lack of awareness. Taking care not to spin around, she collected herself before slowly glancing at the stranger over her shoulder. He was tall, dark, handsome. Interesting, but she didn't have the time right now. She let her eyes wander over his trim, well-muscled frame, noticing the few scars that marked his pelt. Perhaps...but could she have been so lucky to stumble across a warrior right when she was in need of one? Sheba grinned to herself at that, remembering that Lady Luck did seem to be smiling upon her lately.

Ah then, a test. If he was any good, seasoned, with the type of experience she was looking for, he would answer correctly. The best old warriors communicated in the ancient tongue. "Au contraire, monsieur, je pense que c'était vous qui avait la difficulté quand vous avez essayé de suivre nous, non? Dites-moi que je n'ai pas raison." She accompanied the words with a simple smile, not friendly, yet not threatening. They would see if this stranger was worth it...

VICI

"My lady, it appears as if this young one is having difficulty following you."

The strange horse that had been gesturing to him had apparently given up and had decided to approach. He laid back his ears at this; was the stag trying to get him in trouble? He knew better than to speak though, his mother didn't like it when he spoke to strangers without her permission. In fact, his mother didn't like a lot of things, including weakness. By pointing out the fact that he'd been dwadling, the stag had him trapped in a hard place--either let Sheba believe him or risk speaking in an attempt to defend himself. He narrowed his eyes at the stranger. Thanks a lot, big black stag. His mother stopped, staring at the newcomer lazily, not bothering to turn around and face him. She spoke in a funny language that he could not quite understand; he had learned some of the words when she spoke to him, but he could not yet piece together exactly what she had told the stranger. He willed himself not to shrink back. Please let her not be angry with him...

--behind the post--
So, Sheba's not turning on the charm until she decides whether or not Scathy's worth it.
And Vici's pretty much just ticked at Scath because he thinks he's just trying to get him in trouble with Sheba.

[/size]

[Black Thorns]

""Au contraire, monsieur, je pense que c'était vous qui avait la difficulté quand vous avez essayé de suivre nous, non? Dites-moi que je n'ai pas raison."

Scathashoun narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, irritated. "J'ai souffert aucune difficulté- il serait mieux de ne pas suggérer ainsi. Je ne suis pas une peu faible. Dis-moi encore que je suis moins capable de tout et je vais vous montrer tout ce que je suis capables." His words were sharp, snappy. He was already annoyed at the foal's dedication- though, he thought, perhaps the little one would grow to be of use. That is, if Scathashoun ever lasted long enough to watch that potential grow. It was of no doubt in his mind that he wanted to die. He wanted to burn in Hell's inferno. He wanted to repay his sins with eternal suffering- and why not make it as bad as he could? Slaughter the innocent. Destroy the pure. Lust. Gluttony, greed. Wrath, envy, sloth, pride. They were no strangers to him...

She stepped closer to the foal, leaning his head down close to the little one. "You don't like me, do you?" he murmured, soft enough so that he believed the mare could not hear. "You're a smart one. The ones who like me burn."

[lady shady]

SHEBA

Ah, so he had passed. Impressive, very impressive. She laughed softly, a suggestive 'hmmm' rather than a friendly chuckle. "Ah, monsieur, je suis sûr que vous me montrerez tous que vous êtes capable de faire. Je ne vous doutes pas, vous semblez le type de faire qu'est-ce qu'il a promis. Je l'aime..." Sheba let the last word linger, and curled around, nearly brushing his face with her long ivory tail. It had been a while since she'd played this game, and it gave her a thrill to mix business and pleasure. For certainly this stag was a warrior...and she was sure a deal could be arranged. She was facing him now, giving him her attention. Eyeing him, her expression was catlike as she spoke. "And does monsieur have a name?"

She took the slightest step forward, positioning herself just out of his reach. Yes, this one would make a lovely addition to her collection, wouldn't he?

VICI

The stag didn't miss a beat before responding in the same weird tongue. He had to learn it if he wanted to ever understand what they were saying that was so secret! At least his mother didn't seem to upset with him...yet. He'd noticed from their few encounters with strangers that she behaved quite differently with him than she did with him. The stag stepped closer to him and he pinned his fuzzy ears even tighter to his skull.

"You don't like me, do you? You're a smart one. The ones who like me burn," the stranger whispered wickedly, seeming to read his mind. Thankfully, he'd been quiet enough for Sheba not to hear. He still said nothing, doubting that he would be able to speak without Sheba noticing, but gave the stag a resentful look, jerking his tiny muzzle defiantly at him. Of course he didn't like him. He gave him the creeps, got him in trouble, made his mother act funny...oh no, "not liking" him was an understatement.

--behind the post--
Ah, monsieur, je suis sûr que vous me montrerez tous que vous êtes capable de faire. Je ne vous doutes pas, vous semblez le type qui fait qu'est-ce qu'il a promis. Je l'aime... translates to Oh, monsieur, I'm sure you'll show me all you're capable of doing. I don't doubt you, you seem the type who does what he has promised. I like it...

[Black Thorns]

He made no move towards her, cautious. If she was Ramaskith's mate, and he was to so much as get too intimate in his voice with her- he'd be as good as dead. Yet he cared not if he was dead or alive, correct? Either way he suffered. It was just a matter of how. He stepped forwards, the sweet scent of a mare in heat filling his nostrils. He touched her softly, though it was with no emotion. If anything, she was an outlet. Something to let all of his frustration an danger pour into. Something to lose himself in and leave the haunting memories of what once was his behind. Hi lips moved in slow, careful circled up her elegantly dished face, the frost melting away before freezing to her pelt again. He smiled against her ear, his voice low and quiet as he spoke. "I do not wish to tell you my title. Tell me yours before I kill you on the spot, ma cher."
He turned from her suddenly, her body heat ripped away from his side and causing gooseflesh to rise on his skin. The little one stuck up his muzzle defiantly and flattened its fuzzy ears, as if to prove that he wasn't going to put up with Scathashoun's shit.

"Your mother needs to learn to watch her step, else you-all will be dead and buried."

[lady shady]

SHEBA

The stag moved closer, betraying no emotion. Perhaps she would help him along a little...she raised her tail an inch, releasing the tiniest bit of her scent. And he reached out to caress her face. She stood still, letting him run his muzzle over her profile. The familiarity of luring a stranger in was soothing to her. No sooner had she thought this than his mouth was at her ear, murmuring death threats. So like Ramaskith. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Since you asked so nicely," she replied, voice tinged with sarcasm, "I am called Sheba." Let him think her foolish for succumbing so easily, what did it matter to her whether or not he knew her name? It would be a little something to remember her by. The stag stepped away again, addressing Vici, speaking to Sheba through him. At least the boy had the sense not to reply. She cleared her throat prettily, nudging the foal. "Vici, why don't you go play over there? I have some...business to attend to."

Obediently, the colt trudged over to a stretch of flat ground behind her, close enough for her to watch, yet far away enough where he would not be able to hear what they were saying. "Now, monsieur, if you refuse to tell me your title, so be it. It is your business, not mine if you fear sharing. Let me be frank. I am looking--" she advanced, brushing his ebony side with her own ivory one,"--I am looking for one experienced in the art of war. The young one must learn. I have a proposition for you: I have no doubt, monsieur, that you are more than capable for the job. And let us see, you will ask the price, non? Perhaps," she paused, running her muzzle down his spine, toying with his tail and curling her own around his chest. "Let us say that, perhaps there will be...benefits..." she laughed softly, releasing more of her scent just under his nostrils. "Of course, monsieur, I know you think of just taking me now and leaving the young one to rot, but it's not that simple. I wouldn't advise it, soldat."

Sheba pressed her coal-dipped muzzle into his side, massaging the knotted muscle. "What do you say, soldat? Do we have a deal?"

VICI

He recoiled at the nameless figure's threat, pressing his lips shut in distaste. "Vici, why don't you go play over there? I have some...business to attend to." His mother's voice floated towards him. He was dismissed. Casting one last suspicious glance at the stallion, he made his way over to a bit of bare ground behind Sheba. Play? Now what on earth had she meant by that? He could see his mother speaking in hushed tones to the stag, but he soon grew bored once he realized that it would be impossible to hear them. Kicking at a bit of dirty snow, he uncovered a rare patch of grass. Curious, he nibbled at it, immediately spitting out the bitter-tasting stalks. What a strange world this was, adult horses seemed to like the stuff. He gagged softly, imagining that the stag would taste like this disgusting plant if he were ever to be eaten. Vile, vile grass...Vici sighed, and resumed his search for something amusing.

--behind the post--
so, Sheba's got a proposition
and Vici's got a feeling that Scath would taste like grass xD

[/size]

[Black Thorns]

"You little devious whore," he muttered, shaking his head at her before contemplating divulging in his pleasures. He could feel the little one staring at them, boring holes into his hide- yet he had no cause for worry. It likely would post no real threat- at most, a few cuts and bruises. "Little slut," he muttered again, reaching around as she massaged his muscles to do the same to hers. "Luckily for you," he whispered, "I don't mind whores. The little one will learn, if by a heavy hand- I am, by no means, fond of foals. He will keep up with me. He does not and he is dead. Do I make myself clear, Sheba?" he asked, pulling away from her momentarily as she continued her sensual stroking of his pelt.

He turned, beginning to nuzzle her dished face, explore her head and lip gently at her mane before yanking on it sharply, as if in warning. Don't mess with me. He would play along with her, let himself be pleasured, but never once would he feel for her. She was an outlet. Her foal was a project- and Ramaskith would be pleased to gain such a young warrior; it easy to gain information from the opposing side when a little one was crying out pitifully for its mother. They would fall prey into a trap... and this one, Vici, would report any and all things he learned directly to Ramaskith himself. After all, Vici was the lord's flesh and blood.

He'd be smart to wait for the bloodbath.

[lady shady]

SHEBA

She shrugged internally at his insults; she most certainly had been called worse. For Sheba had heard the curses of her name muttered, moaned, and screamed in the dead of night as she silently watched her victims struggle along without her. Let him call her what he wished, let the playtoy have his fun. "Of course, soldat. I will expect nothing less of him. If he's not anything else, he is obedient."

Sheba stood still, allowing him to caress the contours of her finely-boned face. Come closer, little fly... As if he had read her thoughts, he yanked on her mane hard, eyeing her with steely dark orbs. She regarded him coolly before snapping him lightly under the jaw with her muzzle. "Mind your manners, monsieur," she murmured evenly before resuming her methodic massaging of his neck, his withers, his side...

"Come now, if we have a deal, soldat..." she tugged at his mane, pulling him away from Vici and around the corner. The foal would be all right, she'd taught him to hide when she went out. Once she was sure that they were out of sight, she pressed closer to the stag once more, muzzle to his ear.
"You, know, soldat, things would be so much easier if I knew your name..." She backed into his chest and raised her tail, releasing her scent, taunting him. Allowing a lazy smile to creep onto her lips, she regarded him carelessly. Internally though, she knew she was playing with fire. Her timing had to be right, oh, she'd promised herself that after Ramaskith no stag would get that close again. And Sheba was not about to be weighed down with another foal. She allowed him to rest his forelegs and chest on her back. Before he could draw any closer though, she slipped out from under his ebony frame, finishing the sentence she had let hang in the air between them.
"...however, soldat, I don't play the easy way either."
Her eyes were ice as she continued coldly, flicking the very tip of her tail, "I will see evidence of your training, monsieur before we shall see what is to become of you and I."

She turned, leading the way back to Vici.

VICI

He glanced over at his mother and the stranger, still talking, talking, talking. Vici impatiently wandered over to a ragged tree stump, tiny muzzle exploring a rabbit hole. What it would be like to live underground...he amused himself thinking about this for a while, and when he glanced up again, Sheba and the stag had vanished. Shrugging, he set off to find a hiding place, as was his mother's rule. Finding a tiny crevice in the rocks of the slope, he slipped inside to wait for her return. Briefly he wondered where his mother always disappeared to, yet soon his lids grew heavy and he fell asleep, dreaming of grass and rabbit tunnels and the cold...

--behind the post--
eh, no comment

[Black Thorns]

He let a soft grin slither across his face as she snapped him underneath his jaw, her voice sharp as she commanded him to mind his manners. Not one to be bossed around, Scathashoun returned her gentle caresses with more force than necessary- though nowhere near what it could be. He scraped his teeth against her pelt, pushing just hard enough that she would feel it yet not enough to break her skin. He wouldn't want to mar the pretty looks of this one. He needed something easy on the eyes- easy in many other ways, as well, he thought humorously. His hopes began to climb- rather idiotically, may he add- when she yanked him around the corner and away from her precious foal's little eyes. Like he cared. The foal likely didn't know what the hell she did, even if she did it in front of him.

Which, of course, was the next thing she offered after requesting his name. "Names, titles- mine in particular- is not public information, ma petite pute," he spat, hatred leaking out of his voice. Her sweet scent began to fill the air, intoxicating; it was impossible to clear his head when she did this dangerous dance... He let a soft moan escape, unable to contain this want for pleasure as he rose over her body and started to move in- however, she slipped away from his body before he could touch her. She flicked her tail coldly, commanding that he begin training before he could let loose. She was lucky he even was willing to let her refuse- and that he would stay so long. She began to walk away, approaching the little foal's hiding place. A sudden rage boiled in him, compelling him to lash out and snap at her hindquarters. Blood welled up where the flesh had once been, a rusted smell filling the air and helping to rid the last of her from his nose. He calmed visibly, spitting out the piece of flesh that ripped away. He couldn't help but be fascinated as the blood dripped into the snow, crimson red bright against the cold whiteness- much like against her.

They arrived at the little one rather quickly- and to his dissatisfaction, it was sleeping. He prodded its body with a single hoof, snorting. "Wake up, little one. We have things to do- and I'm not the most patient of fellows when it comes to training." His voice was clipped, yet had a forced kindness to it. He didn't want to do this- rather, he's prefer to rip the filthy thing to shreds. "Best you show me what you can do before I teach you. Spar with me; I'll be fair. If you're trained by me you ill be stronger than the warriors I know. Your size does not matter. You will learn to fight, damn well you will. Get up. You're lucky you aren't dead already."