Fever Dreaming

A lone ear swayed forward suspiciously, detecting the subtle change of tone in his company's voice. It would seem that vocalizing his spite somehow appealed to the stranger's sensibility. Eyes of fire-licked silver found those of the much smaller stallion, brow heavy with skepticism.

He offered words of consolation; of a memory of months-long "baking heat" as though that were any better. Such a soothsaying offered no comfort to the creature forged of fire but sculpted by snowswept peaks—he was built for winter, not the vengeful punishment of summer (granted, that was before his blood ran cold). At least the stranger set aside his own selfish agenda for a moment, saving further aggravation to the smoldering turmoil inside him.

There is better shelter beyond here.

Both ears slacked forward, snared by the proposal of somewhere other than here. Vroskar listened as he described forests, caves, and mountains—things he liked much better than unworldly thickets of half-dead trees overrun by phantom shadows. "Is this how you recruit new members? Wait til the shades have sucked the life out of them, and corner them with proposals of all the usual things?" His voice comes as a vengeful bite, holding back nothing.

He weighed the proposal begrudgingly, agitation writ upon his features. While he didn't want to go with the mare-stallion (he had half a mind to tell him to go on; leave him to simmer in his anguish and pray he melt away into the puddles that pooled around his feet) it seemed foolish not to go with someone apparently familiar with the realm.

Were there other members of this "sisterhood?" Was there some troop of stallions running about pretending to be women and this was how they recruited new members? A scoff shook his nostrils: maybe Vroskar, too, was on his way to forgetting his manhood, he thought with scathing sarcasm.  

Filling his lungs deeply, Vroskar willed the bulk of his body up onto its feet. His muscles complained and shuddered but after a few moments he was standing and the blood began to rush back to the places it should have been. Blackness rimmed his vision, making him dizzy, but he blinked it away. Though his heart beat noisily, it felt somehow frail; tired; achingly mortal. It throbbed in his neck, in his belly, in his chest, as he ushered the white one on with a toss of the nose.

"I will go with you, but do not expect me to stay," he said sternly, ready as he ever would be to follow the white one deeper into this afore-mentioned hell.

@Valkyrie

/ ooc ; exit?