Vadar
Seven characteristics are in an uncultivated person, and seven in a learned one
This is what he does.
This is who he is.
Happiness evades him, normalcy is revolted by his very existence. How can something born from horrible circumstances escape a fucked up existence? Fate drew Vadar’s lot and decided that he should miserable. Miserable for something he didn’t do and couldn’t reverse. Every time he thinks about wanting something for himself he’s driven to a place of constant indecision and it makes him fucking mad as hell.
Stop
So he does. This is all too familiar anyways. He stops and then he frowns, and the quivering water around them holds perfectly still again. Despite him trying to play it her way he still wasn’t good enough. The thin veneer begins to bend under the pressure of trying to remain calm but he just can’t. Nah, fuck that… he doesn’t want to be calm anymore.
“You just want to be a tease.” The white-marked stallion brands her. Each word is sharp and precise. In the same instant her mouth grips down into his flesh and he yanks away on purpose, swings his eyes around in a flash of red-colored hatred and sneers an ugly smile. “Oh no you f-” But she cuts him off. Pushes her whore lips onto his.
And that’s the last straw.
Who does he become in the moments that pass by afterwards? Is he the Vadar he was meant to be? When he stares directly into the topside of her overlapping, beautifully feathered wings and shoots a violent flash of light their way, is the satisfaction he feels justified or just a dark side? The stout black stallion couldn’t say. He wants to leave her helpless, wants to see her struggle in pain.
The creek churns when he glides forward. He can smell what he wants, rushes forward to reach out and grab at the smooth curve of her haunches, pull her close and hear her scream. Desire or dread would probably sound very similar. Hadn’t he warned her? Are you the gambling type, flamingo?
@[peregrine jude] apparently he's into it