we built this city on broken glass
The near indignant fashion in which Alexander sought to insist his grandchildren were hardly children any longer only further tugged at the equines amusement. How unfortunate that those children had so apparently long since passed an age in which they might have afforded the Hunter atop his back some foolish, childish name. It was perhaps juvenile of the stallion himself to find such pleasure in something so mundane as what moniker Alexander had been bestowed with by his family and yet, there was little about the ancient man that was not serious- in all things. Frost was unable, by that notion, to prevent the amusement that lingered at the idea that somewhere within the world some boy or girl might refer to the great conqueror as 'poppy'. Alexanders insistence that his eldest grandchild was well over five hundred readily prompted a lift to Frosts own eyes. Such an age, for a Fae, was nothing short of respectable. Matteo, it seemed, had passed on his own longevity. Frost instead chose to take amusement in the idea that a Hunter had a Fae for a grandson. It was Alexander's utterance of that second name, however, that prompted a near stumble in Frost's own gait as the war horse strode across that open field. Tetreadore. Surely.....it was not the same Tetradore that Frost himself knew and had so unfortunately....murdered all that time ago? Yet- such a name was hardly common by any means. The Hunters assurance that his youngest grandson was only thirty two only furthered that frown upon the stallions features.
"Tetradore? The fellow who lives on the Ark? The Alpha of the Nightshade Pack? He is Matteo's son and your grandson?"
How....unfortunate it would be for Alexander to learn of his own dealings with the WereKing of the West. Those issues between them had long since been resolved and yet Alexander was unlikely to take well to his having killed his grandson. Frost's own thoughts shifted once more to that very night Tetradore and himself had spent within the mountains above the city. Those drinks they had shared and too- that tale Tetradore had told him had hardly been forgotten. Frost, in that moment, inclined to find several more questions rising to the very tip of his tongue and yet, for now at least, such questions were pushed aside lest Alexander question him about his dealings with Tetradore too deeply. Then again, perhaps the Hunter already knew what had occured between them and merely made no mention of it as if this were merely some game of the mind- one Frost was all to content to play in turn as he merely chose to...ignore his and Tetradore's own falling out those years ago. The stallion quick to fixate this thoughts upon that evening that had shared together instead. After all- he was ever mindful of Alexander's own connection to himself.
"Teleportation is often an inherited power, either by blood or association. I commented as such to Tetradore some time ago, I asked who he had inherited the power from, he merely told me 'someone close' with no further details. It makes sense that he would share a power with his Father. Although, now that I know of their relationship I will admit I can see...similarities in their behaviour."
The pair settled into a comfortable silence in the time that followed. Frost was content to keep up that quick and yet easy pace as the miles upon miles of land around them seemed to stretch ever further across the horizon. This country was....appealing to him. How much it reminded him of his own home- without the ice and snow. Any further thoughts the war horse was inclined to have in regards to Tetradore were, for now, firmly tucked into the far reaches of his mind where those few other secrets remained concealed from his Hunter companion. Secrets that were, he was certain, better left to remain unsaid. The pair had only just begun their descent into the valley in an effort to ford the river below before it rained when that femanine voice rung out behind them and Jocelyn and Maddy pushed their mounts onward in an effort to reach the white stallion and his rider. The two women were quick to share that news they had brought from the base camp. Genghis Khan's attack on Matteo prompted little outward reaction from Alexander beyond that concern and yet that near subtle tensing of the man's fingers agianst the reins was readily felt by Frost. The near outrage that stirred in the hunters mind was equally telling of just how much that news affected him- even as he strove to act otherwise. Hmm. How unwise it was to anger Alexander. How quickly the Hunters' thoughts became murderously determined. Even Frost, in all his own stubbornness and inclination to take charge was willing to admit that Alexander, when his mind was made up, was simply...unstoppable. Khan would be wise to avoid them the rest of this trip and yet how he doubted the man would.
Frost's own desire to leave those women and their foolish chatter behind readily prompted the draft horse to increase his pace, those quickening steps coaxing a sudden tug of Alexander's hands agianst the reins in that subtle command to slow. One that, for now, Frost was willing enough to heed as his pace eased back once more. The pair had, surely, come a long, long way in that relationship with one another and yet, those occasions still persisted in which Frost remained content to insist he knew better then Alexander and desired to take that lead. Much to the Hunters disdain. The very absence of a bridge with which to cross that river however saw that entire party halt upon its banks. Those bobbing splinters of wood that floated rapidly down stream so hardly the mere accident the women seemed to believe. The readily retreating form of Khan and his dun stallion coaxing that lash of Frost's tail in irritation- before the skies above began to release their downpour. Fucking hell. Frost's own ears laid back into the thickness of his mane in disdain, the stallion abruptly turning to begin to search for a way across that river. Alexander in that moment, was afforded truly little chance to argue before the equine all but plunged into those frigid depths- much to the horror of those women and yet, while crossing that river was nothing short of necessary it so provided the added benefit of rendering the women, on their far lighter mounts, incapable of following lest they be washed away. How much he desired to be away from their foolish blabbering and poor efforts at flirtation with Alex. The Hunter had seemed largely oblivious to them all the same. Those women, at least, seemed content to follow Alex's suggestion that they travel around the river, their mounts quickly turned and sent downstream before Alexander near demanded Frost remove them from the river. That single utterance of his name laced with a clear display of short temper was one Frost was content to meet with his own snort of displeasure before he began to do as commanded and wade from that water onto the opposite bank.
The rain only seemed to increase in its ferocity. Frost's efforts to shake himself dry so hardly managing to achieve any such thing as his coat quickly became sodden again. The stallion's normally white pelt becoming near grey beneath that downpour, his thick mane, in the very least, prevented from becoming near stringy ribbons by those braids Matteo had tied. Frost's pace increased once more then, the stallion swinging into that comfortable canter to make up further ground as they pressed onward through that valley. He was aware of Alexander shifting within the saddle to reach for his rain jacket and slide it into place. The coat doing little, it seemed, to keep out the chill as the Hunter near shivered. It took truly little effort upon Frost's own part so summon that power for warmth. Those tendrils of heat rushing easily to encompass his companions frame and chase away the chill of the wind and rain. The stallion hardly commented on that gesture as the pair hurried onward. That valley was....oppressive. Its towering walls doing little to ease Frost's own anxiety for those small spaces. The faster they were through it the better. Both man and equine seeming to share that same sentiment- at least until Alexanders thoughts shifted to Joclyen. Frost was assured Alexander had missed that very opportunity- even if the pair hardly had time to pause for the hunter to take a woman to his bed. Alexander's insistence that he was certain Joclyen and Maddy both would make their desires known again- to both himself and Matteo- at the end of the race readily coaxed that look of surprise to the equines own features. That use of his own human name hardly missed in turn. How few beings ever called him Rixon and yet it was not...displeasing to hear it spoken.
"You surprise me. You don't seem the type to enjoy foursomes. You seem so ....what is that term...vanilla? Matteo I can see- but you? Perhaps I had you wrong. Hmm."
Those words were near teasing as they were pressed to the Hunters mind. Alexander, after all, so had the very habit of appearing....conservative. The Hunter focused on his work and little else. He had, surely, enjoyed such things back in those days when he had near owned the world itself and yet Frost had assumed the man had...retired from such things over time. How intriguing it was to consider Alexander partaking in anything so boisterous. He had known the man for years now and still the hunter had surprised him. Those very thoughts were once more cast aside as the pair paused briefly at that fork within the road before Alexander directed him along that faster path even despite its more treacherous footing. They could make up no small amount of time by taking that less travelled road, even as it became narrower and narrower. The pair pushed further and further up into the mountains. The rain continued its relentless assault until Frost was forced to walk in an effort to prevent them slipping to their deaths down the side of the cliff. The ground beneath his hooves, in the very least, felt secure despite the small stones that crumbled away beneath his weight. Frost, in those moments, focused intensely on each placement of his hoof. Until a sudden, distant sound readily saw the war horse pause- his own neat, sharp ears pricking forward to better capture that noise. What was it?
Alexander sat all the more upright in those moments, both horse and rider scanning the valley below and the path ahead before Alexander's heels pressed to his side once more- the Hunter content to go forward and yet that sound seemed to be growing ever closer. Instinct alone near screaming at the equine to move. It was nothing short of uncharacteristic for the normally aloof stallion to wheel backward in the almost frantic manner he did, the tightening of the reins in Alexander's hands surely offering the man all the more feeling of the tension that seemed to exude within the stallions frame. Alexander's questioning momentarily unanswered as Frost stood all the straighter, his entire frame held taut in anticipation of....something. Even the touch of Alexander's hand agianst his neck, this time, failed to ease that anxiety of sorts that clung to his figure. He could hear it. That sound. Something was so certainly wrong. Those animal instincts having overtaken his figure entirely in that moment. Both hunter and horse cast their eyes upward in near the same moment- those tumbling rocks from above suddenly crashing into view. Alexander's command to go backward was so hardly required as Frost scrambled near frantically to retreat away from those fallings stones that shattered and collided with the ridge they had only moments ago stood upon, that avalanche taking out the path ahead- leaving that passage all but impassable as the pair merely started towards it.
Whatever words Frost had been about to offer were readily cut short by the distinct sound of hooves. His violet gaze was drawn upward then, the sight of Khan upon that dun stallion above readily assaulting his view as man and horse rode steadily by. The simper of satisfaction upon the Mongolian's lips all to clear. Khan, it seemed, was beyond playing mere games. His attempts to murder Matteo had shifted directly to Alexander and himself. That avalanche had missed them by mere feet. That sound suddenly started again. The touch of Alexanders heels, this time, sent Frost lunging forward and toward those alread collapsed boulders as that path behind them became equally blocked- the pair trapped upon the side of that fucking mountain!
"Does he intend to leave us here!? How are we going to get do-"
That very question, it seemed, was all but answered within mere moments. That clear rumbling sound started again as the earth began to shake. The goal of that final avalanche was near painfully clear. Alexander and himself could go neither forward nor backward, nothing but the wall of the mountain existed to the right and the left was a sheer drop into oblivion before the valley floor those miles below. Khan intended to bury them upon that mountainside. Those boulders were far too large for either man or horse to climb, the path above was equally out of reach and yet that drop below was far too high for either to hope to survive jumping from it. How assured he had been that he would, one day, die within the midst of some battle. In the very least there might have been some honour in such a death. The be murdered by an avalanche upon the side of some lonely mountain so hardly seemed fitting and yet how quickly that reality seemed to strike at his very heart. How...displeasing it was to be the one mount who had failed Alexander. That realisation in turn striking far more potently at his chest than he had anticipated.
"We have nowhere to go."
Those words were near...flat. His tone almost resolute in that realisation that there simply was no way out. The stallion was near eerily...calm at that moment. Alexander, perhaps, might yet survive that avalanche, or that fall somehow- Hunter's were decidedly durable and Alexander was....greater then most. Frost's own chance for that survival however were nothing short of zero. The only choice that remained was whether they would sooner be crushed beneath those boulders or dashed agianst the ground below. God it was a long way down. Frost's gaze shifted rapidly from the ground below to the boulders above and back again, each muscle within his frame near tensing readily, that anxiety that gripped at his heart near furious as it all but pounded in his ears.
"You might survive if I jump."
If, by some miracle, Alexander could stay upon his back then his own body was far more likely to take that impact and provide the Hunter with at least....some resistance to that fall and yet still there remained every chance they were both likely to shatter upon the ground below. Yet to stay where they were was certain death all the same. Fucking hell. How displeasing it was to die like this. Frost so hardly waited for Alexander to attempt to make any choice in that moment, the stallion merely allowed each muscle to to tighten before his figure turned and, within the same motion, so proceeded to launch Alexander and himself from that path and into the sheer nothingness of that empty space as he leapt from the cliffs edge. How quickly gravity took its near vengeful hold, both horse and rider sent plummeting towards the ground- that horrendous feeling of falling all but sucked the air from the equines lungs. That ground rising horrifically fast to meet them. It was a vague, near dim awareness that occured somewhere within the very back of Frost's own mind, that sensation of pain at his shoulders and sides and yet in anticipation of that final assault agianst the ground that pain seemed entirely dismissible. Frost, in that moment, utterly oblivious to that shift in his own physique nor that instinctive, automatic spreading of the wings that had formed in response to that impending need- at least until the air caught beneath their outstretched expense. Frost's entire frame jerked upward as they caught the air mere feet above the very earth, the pair sent near rocketing sideways on that propulsive glide and powerful breeze as Frost near frantically attempted to reach the ground beneath him, his hooves merely scraping that shale- the rapidly panicking stallion unable to fold those wings back beneath him nor understand how to slow himself. How he hardly knew what occured in those moments, his wings so suddenly frantically seeming to flap with no ability for direction. One wing collided with the side of the valley wall, Frost sent toppling to the ground below, a drop of barely three feet, the stallion, by some miracle, landing upon his feet and yet that sheer and utter panic had so seemingly over taken the horse entirely in those adrenaline fueled moments. Alexander, so unfortunately, all but forgotten.
Something, he was certain, had grabbed him. That very thing still gripping at his sides, the stallion capable of eyeing that flapping white....thing out of his peripheral vision- that alone, as it did for all horses- so prompting a near instinctive desire to get away from it. Frost's hooves had no sooner met that ground then the stallion all but launched forward. His miraculous survival all but forgotten as the equine's spine arched upward, the war horse near exploding into those all but frantic bucks- the result being the wild flapping of his own rather sizable wings once more. Frost, in that moment, oblivious to his control over those wings or indeed the idea that his bucking was causing that sound and those wings to fail about and only terrify him further. The scent of blood- one wing so having been damaged in that collision with the wall- only further fueling that moment of insanity. The stallion's entire body seemed to tense once more, Alexander afforded but precious seconds to ready himself for that moment as a surge of energy saw Frost's head jerk downwards, his spine arch once more and his forehoves firmly plant themselves agianst the rocky ground. Frost so proceeding to hand-stand vertically upward in an effort to get away from whatever it was that clung to his sides- those glorious, magnificent white wings a source of sheer terror in that moment....