This mare seems to have quite the knack for throwing him entirely off guard. She clearly has lost whatever marbles she had, and he had been the misfortunate soul to stumble upon her in her odd mood.
Shifting, the pale stallion takes a step back, dark eyes wary as his gaze follows the kaleidoscope mare. A scowl tugs at his lips as her laughter echoes in the air about him mocking and amused all at once. He might have had a dearth of company these last several years, but even he is not so hard up he must stay here to be taunted by a woman who has clearly seen better days.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps she has always been mad.
Head high, ears leveled in agitation, he responds, his voice a low, uneasy rumble. “You speak nonsense, woman. I think it is best if I…” He pauses then as she brushes past him, a hot slide of skin against skin. He continues to shift, gaze never leaving her as he eyes her with wary vigilance. And then she changes once more, becoming a velvety grullo, soft and smooth and beautiful. He is distracted for a moment, mouth nearly going dry, but her disjointed words bring him up short.
Head drawing up sharply, his dark gaze whips around to take in his suddenly mottled pelt of florescent pink and yellow. Shying away from her, he growls. Actually growls. It is not a sound made for an equine throat, but he manages it passably well. Jerking back, he pins her with glaring, steely eyes. “You overstep,” he all but snarls before drawing in a sharp breath, his dark eyes shuttering briefly as he struggles to regain his rapidly fraying temper. “Is there a point to this… display of yours,” he utters in a softer, though no less ferocious, tone.
there is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die
Hurricane