His breath is ragged and shallow as it blows from his nostrils and dark green lips, chapped and bleeding from his time in the saltwater. He runs his tongue over the sharp corners, hungrily tasting the dried blood and freshwater that still lingers there. The wind stirs, lifting his short mane (for it still was not grown out long because of his youth) from his neck, cooling the hot and somewhat rotten wounds that adorn his body. He shifts his weight, his right side leaning into the soft and compacted muck of the riverbank, wincing as the largest wound on his right shoulder opens once again, fresh blood pooling in the deep sluice of flesh. He snorts with frustration – the wounds were too deep to heal.
A sound jolts him from his inner thoughts, and before his eyes even open his ears are hidden in the short crop of lavender and green that was his mane. His lips curl menacingly to show his teeth, the cuts ripping with the movement. The pain seems to not bother him as much now, his adrenaline pumping fluidly through his veins and masking any sort of stinging or discomfort. His dark eyes quickly find the source; a robust, auburn stallion (though he could tell was young – still a fledgling) splashed with stark white stands before him, his eyes glimmering curiously as he stares down at Maugrim. The yearling stares up at him from beneath a hooded brow, refusing to lift his head to see him more clearly. The unnamed stallion is looking out into the open water of the river to his right, surveying Maugrim with a slightly less than judgmental look. He’s used to it.
Ears still pinned and teeth bared warningly, Maugrim cautiously watches the stallion. His nostrils flare, inhaling scents but all where unknown to him. He smells of singed flesh and ash – that he could recognize. The stallion was getting too close to him, and he could feel a rumbling in his chest that pounds heavily against his ribcage, his anger threatening to be released the moment this stranger made one wrong move. He gestures to the wound on his shoulder, deep and blistering in the springtime sun, and Maugrim leans away from him slightly. He was not about to give up the space he had so rightly came to find first, but being so near to someone made it feel like his body was on fire.
Maugrim’s eyes narrow questioningly, a sharp snort leaving him. The air from his nostrils causes a spray of blood from his injured lips, staining the ground below him. The idea of heat scorching his open and decaying lacerations sent a shiver down his spine, uncertain how this stranger had even come up with this idea in the first place. Maugrim’s dark, nearly pupil less eyes glances at the larger stallion. “I’m fine,” he lies, his voice steely and unbending as he forces words through his clenched teeth and tightened jaw. He could not help but think that this ‘caring’ stranger had impure intentions (which of course he did) in trying to aide him. But the yearling doesn’t move away from the older stallion just yet, knowing that his wounds were only getting worse and the water was helping, but not quickly enough.
Behind Maugrim and in front of the large stallion, a spot in the river begins to churn in the opposite direction of the current, stirring unnaturally. The yearling keeps his eyes on the ivory splashed bay, his muscles tense beneath his pearlescent and dark evergreen skin, but his mind focuses carefully on the water – ready and poised.
m a u g r i m.
@[Levi]
So either Levi can get annoyed with him and put some fire to his injury on his shoulder and singe it together, or he can see the water moving and add heat to it, and then we can put it to his wound. Either way Maugrim will get a cool scar <3 lol