One foot toward the gallows || Breckin, Vulgaris ||

[Wolfbane]

WOLFBANE

With enough surprise to scare death himself, what was supposed to be a final farewell has become a whirlwind of misinterpretation. Heartfire arrives and for a moment the striped pegasus wants to smile, (it threatens to break loose any moment) yet he doesn’t because a blind man could read her thousand-yard stare. It preludes what she’s yet to say and somehow, Wolfbane feels like he’s already puzzled out her mind. Words seemed unnecessary coming from such an authoritarian mare, the way they spill like molten iron and harden even when Vulgaris lashes aggressively back.

But she just can’t help herself, can she?

Nor can Breckin. They both settle on a masked sort of resolve, one clipping out demands right on the heel of the other as Breckin glances between the group and finally settles on himself for an explanation. Bane snorts, hardly believing that she would so blindly cast herself into a tumultuous storm while asking, mid-drowning, for the other sailors to throw her a life line. What could possibly have kept her busy enough to become detached from her own people?

“Don’t look to me for refuge. Sink or swim.” His glare seems to say, though he holds his tongue on reserve and remains silent for Leilan to intercept.

“Leilan is right.” The stallion finds himself saying, after a second of quiet deliberation. Tilting a curious eye in his grandmere’s direction, the Pirate Lord secretly doubts that any creature like the one Vulgaris had described could possibly need the roan lady for protection … of any sort. “Blood sport is lawful and inescapable if Vulgaris or myself choose to smoke out the rat.” He mutters, unphased by how one obviously dangerous male seemed to turn the tide of what he supposed were loyalties to himself and family.

This is why he’d been so hesitant to allow the image-giver into his life and home, why he’d been positive he’d regret whatever Breckin stirred inside of him.

In one instant those who claim ties to you are just as quick to knife you in the back.

“Dovev is banned from entering Loess,” Wolfbane states, “and unless any of you have quantifiable evidence disproving his attack on my champion’s mate, we’ll continue the hunt.” he speaks plainly.

A coin flip of a risk, but he’s betting on Breckin’s sensibility over Heartfire’s attachment and Leilan’s cheery disposition. Flicking his mute, olive eyes once more in her direction the striped horse waits, wondering if she’ll risk riding the tides of war for a single beast who (he assumed) wasn’t even honestly a leviathan.

|| The Pirate Lord of Loess ||

@[Breckin] @[vulgaris] @[Heartfire] @[Leilan]