He tries to inhale and exhale steadily, but he cannot control the way his lungs give him shallow and ragged breaths. The buzzing in his chest was growing ever more rampant, becoming a sensation that burns and growls in his belly, like a wildfire spreading. The animosity he felt, though seemingly pointed at this lavender colt, was regular for him; only soothed when he was near the ocean or, unfortunately, when inflicting pain. It was the only way he could calm himself; the only way he could feel peace. This boy with a shining medal of honor around his chest wishes him to leave, not at all being nonchalant when it came to his idea of Maugrim. His repulsion was delicious and sweet, feeding the flame that smolders within the dark green and lavender yearling.
The land beyond… Maugrim snorts amusedly, ears flicking backwards, not at all surprised that his presence isn’t welcome on this unknown island. He doubts that there is no freshwater in the vicinity, and he neither doubts that this colt will force him out back into the ocean if necessary. He is not sure why the ocean washed him up on the bright shores of this isle, but the face of unwelcome was clear as the waters that laps quietly at its shores. He can only imagine how the conversation will turn when the young prince’s parents show up. Lips curl in distaste, ears falling back into his short, cropped mane with anger. Of course, our rage-filled yearling had no idea that the colt opposite him was capable of reading his every thought. Maugrim can’t understand why he was so put off by his presence, wounded and obviously not causing any problems (…yet). Though if Maugrim knew that he could read his thoughts he would understand completely – the innermost thoughts he had were not exactly warm and fuzzy – and would probably agree with his cautious and unwelcoming demeanor.
Poor Azazelle, caught in the middle of it all.
Maugrim’s dark eyes, nearly pupil less, shift to her as she speaks. So sweetly her voice enters the tropical air, so keen on preening the ruffled feathers and calming the situation at hand. Friend, she calls him. He says nothing to her. She can call him whatever she wants, if it made her feel better. Perhaps if she had come to this land by herself, the welcome would have been more gracious and lovely. He wonders if she’s realized yet that he naturally brings an air of foreboding about him.
“See,” Maugrim begins, his ears lifting forward slightly. “It’s all just a misunderstanding. It was merely the tides that have brought us to your doorstep.” His voice sounds lighter but a smile does not grace his dry and cracked lips. Instead the scowl that was once there is replaced with a thin line, jaw muscles pulsing as his teeth clench. Darkness was beginning to loom in the distance and Maugrim’s eyes shift to the colt inquisitively. What will he do? Will he turn away two wounded and lost children from Pangea?
“I’m Maugrim.”
Trust me.
m a u g r i m.