Their presence in the war had been of little consequence, only one magician (or so he assumed it was such) had even tried to weather their sky-breaking storm of power. Their joining had been on a ethereal, molecular level – their closeness was a wild and hungry thing, the beast he knew they could always be.
When they had been together Kratos could feel the warm pulse of her throat and soft beat of her heart despite the exploding electricity and lightning they had wrapped around them, a white-hot thrum of dynamism that was rarely dreamed of. But it was everything he had dreamed of, it was what his father had spoken of and it could be so much more.
And the titan is not ignorant to the fact the second highest ranking mare from the Jungle would not go missing unnoticed. His mind briefly slithers across the thoughts of how long it would take them to come looking, or how soon Yael would come digging in his head. He doubted the golden queen didn’t already know of Rhy’s presence.
The selfishness in his yearning of her is well-noted, but he disregards it as he looks upon the painted mare he had always loved – the one that had given him his first true scar, the one he had followed from deserts, chasing her raw power (so much like his own), years ago. So when she turns to him and asks, “are you sticking around this time?” A rogue’s smile slides across his black lips and he says, “that depends on if you are going to make it worth my while or not.”
A smooth growl of a chuckle leaves his lips as he turns to her in the sand, “you were good out there,” he says, his oil-black gaze holding hers as he dips his muzzle to hers, “we were good out there.”
Kratos
the electric titan of vanquish and lyric