To Right the Wrongs || Socrates

[Xenan]

//Cheza

This world was nothing like she'd expected it to be. For much of her young life, the spotted golden palomino mare had dreamed of leaving her parents, leaving the Valley, to find a life for herself. Only, when she'd dreamed it, she'd pictured sunshine and fresh green grass, beautiful flowers here and there. She'd pictured smiling faces and charming males whom would seek to court her properly to win her heart. She'd imagined finding a home abundant with life, flora and fauna, with a mate to call her own. Together, she and her mate would start a family and enjoy the miracles of life in itself. If only she'd known long ago that life itself was not always full of sunshine and happiness. She wouldn't have bothered dreaming for such things.

Sure, it was now summer. Just the beginning, but temperatures rose high along with the sun each day, making many a horse sweat in their ventures. There was plenty of green in the trees overhead, and beyond them lay the meadow that she'd set as her destination. This meadow, she could already see through the lessening thickness of the forest, was abundant with fresh green grass and even a sunflower here and there. Overall it was a beautiful morning. However, the tall hotblooded mare's sight was dulled to the beauty by her knowledge of the beasts and darkness that shrouded the world, hidden well by a deceptive facade that often would never reveal the truth of life until the monsters made themselves known.

In her travels, her quest to find her happy life, Cheza had come across another mare with the most sickeningly depressed aura around her. Softly delving into the why as she accompanied the mare, hoping to alleviate some of the darkness with her own light within the other, Chez discovered that the very mare she'd associated herself with had been brutally raped and even roughed up some by the beast. To her, this was simply and completely unacceptable. Such things should never be allowed occur. Such beasts should never be allowed to continue breathing afterward. Upon gently prying the mare, Cheza had insisted on gaining all the information she could about the brute that had defiled her. A name would have been a gift, although all the poor femme could supply was a description. The stallion was large, muscular, and his hide was pure black. His eyes were a striking blue, and a scar shown on one leg and the left side of his neck. She really hoped the marks had hurt when they'd marred his skin, and she was certainly determined to learn more about the beast. It hadn't taken long, either. A bit of traveling and asking around had revealed the brute's name to be Voltair, well-known for being an uncaring asshole who force-bred mares whenever he damn well pleased. Well. Cheza would see an end put to his monstrosity. Even if it killed her.

She'd sought more information in her new quest (abandoning hope for a happy life with a mate and family) to bring down the beast dubbed Voltair, who had seemed to have been everywhere, leaving chaos in his wake. She would see him dead, of this she would be endlessly determined, no matter what it took. But Cheza was not stupid; she knew well that she had never been trained in combat, and she was not daft to think she could be strong enough to take the demon down alone. She was going to need a plan, and before long, one had reached her with a clarity that could not be mistaken. As she had inquired further about her quarry, she'd been told a story of two brothers whose hatred for one another went far beyond typical sibling rivalry. The tales varied as to why, but Cheza suspected that the monster, Voltair, was likely to harbor much jealousy over the fact that their parents had favored the younger sibling, whom she now knew to be called Socrates, King of Covell; the very lands in which the golden mare was wandering within at that very moment. Still, the mare would ponder absolutely no excuse for the beast's choice of actions as they were absolutely a choice. Voltair chose to become a monster, and to Chez, he therefore chose to be brought down. And what better way to accomplish such a feat than to become associated with the devil's brother. Thus the reason the brazen mare was stepping foot on Socrates' turf this day.

Reaching the meadows and bringing herself close enough that the entrance to the King's caves became visible to her, the palomino appaloosa mare finally stopped, brown eyes fixed on Dragon's Mouth just ahead. Her heart was pounding -- out of anticipation rather than exertion, for the fate of her quest rested solely upon how well her meeting went with the king. She was going to have to put her best hoof forward, stand her ground, and lay out the cards of her discoveries before him, state her intentions. While she had been told that the King of Covell was as black as his brother and even more well-muscled, she had yet to hear rumors of Socrates committing such vile acts himself, so Cheza was going on pure determination and courage to carry on with this task which must not go undone. Surely the king would help her. Tipping her dished skull downward decisively, the golden mare then inhaled deeply and lifted her muzzle, letting out a call for the stallion himself and knowing that her tones would reach him within his caves, wherever he might be. Surely she would not need to enter them herself just yet. Familiar with the rumors of the intricate tunnels and passageways, the last thing this particular female wanted was to get lost in their depths. That would certainly not serve well to aid her at all.

OOC: Longer than I was expecting it to be xD Hope it's alright =]
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Nothing. There was nothing out in these lands today. The silence cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. There were no birds, no summer grasshoppers, and no hot breeze, nothing to interest him at all. His mares were nowhere to be found this afternoon, for they had presumably gone off gallivanting around in the massive main chamber, leaving the king to guard duties. Alone. Perhaps that shouldn’t of bothered the (usually) anti-social stallion. There were even days where he deliberately went out of his way to insult and chase off anyone that dared approach him. The ‘good’ brother wasn’t always good. But more often than not there were those days where he ached for the company of another, and would mind his manners… at least for the most part. Recently he’d seemed to forget that war was always on the verge of breaking out in Covell. Always scratching at his doorstep. It was just a question as to when that damn older sibling of his decided to show up. Not that he wanted him to. Socrates would have been perfectly happy to never see that terrible face again, even if there was that urge for revenge hidden deep inside him. He’d never admit it, though. Even if he had began to disregard all this the past couple of weeks, the brute always felt that lingering paranoia waiting to unleash itself on him again. And that was why he stood guard at Dragon’s Mouth this day. Alone.

Silence. Silence. And more silence.

“Fuck this” he huffed to himself from where he stood, which was deep enough into Dragon’s Mouth to not be seen by anyone outside yet close enough to the huge opening that he could catch anyone that dare try and invade the caverns. He whipped around and took a few decisive steps into the lingering darkness that he loved so much. But a loud call echoing off the walls around him suddenly drilled into his ears. He cringed slightly, ears flicking back as he stopped in his tracks and threw a look back over his shoulder towards the distant light of day. Having spent all eight years of his life here, he was always able to tell which direction a sound came from, even when the sounds bounced off the cavern walls and ceiling. Such things would leave many other horses confused as to which direction to go. But the black stallion knew it was outside where the call had came from. He really didn’t want to go, but he did anyways. Laziness wasn’t a trait he usually held.

Turning so he could canter back towards the entrance, eyes squinting due to the harshness of the sudden light, he perched himself atop a slight hill just outside Dragon’s Mouth in order to get a good survey of the large meadows outside. Spotting the individual whom had made the call was easy enough, but he didn’t go gallivanting off towards the horse in the distance. Instead, he inhaled deeply a few times to try and get a whiff of their scent. Success told him it was definitely a mare, which slightly eased his worries of a dangerous intruder. Mares tended to be less bothersome than young, naive brutes trying to prove themselves. He’d banished enough of those to last a lifetime. Mares had more worth in his opinion. But Socrates wasn’t usually one for an extremely friendly introduction, even when craving company. He was always wary of strangers. Always.

He stared the mare down, not moving a single muscle under his pure black hide for several minutes as he decided on an appropriate approach. And once he’d made up his mind, he was trotting off down the small hill and across the meadow, looking pumped up and ready to kick even her ass if she tried anything. His neck was arched and there was a bounce in his step, ready for anything that might come his way. His ears flicked back and forth, listening for the sound of anything that might take him by surprise. The paranoia was seeping into him again, and he didn’t fight it. It was better to be cautious of everything than ignorant and passive about it all.

It took the king several minutes at a fast trot to reach the mare. And, once he had, he came to a halt a couple of yards in front of her. There he stood, not moving a muscle as he stared at her. His expression gave nothing away, and he did not bother to speak.

She had requested his presence. He was here.

WORD COUNT: idk
NOTES: SORRY IT TOOK ME DAYS! I was sick D8 But hehe I love my tall boy <3
MUSE: good
VOICE: viggo mortensen as aragorn

[Xenan]

//Cheza

Muscles over the mare's trim shoulders gave the slightest of shudders as she stood there a bit anxiously, out in the open as she was, waiting for the King to make himself known. Golden ears danced atop her skull as she minded her surroundings, occasionally taking her brown eyes off of the caves' entrance to scan the area before they snapped back to the abysmal entrance. The darkness called to her nearly as much as it drove her away, and she couldn't help but wonder what mysteries and wonders lay within. It wasn't the idea of that that had her nervous, however, for she only hoped that the King would approve of her and share with her the desire to put an end to his demon kin. After another moment passed by with no signs of life within, Cheza began to fear she would need to enter the caves to find the King. She refused to actually be afraid, as she simply did not want to be accused of trespassing, nor did she desire to get herself lost. But just as she began to flirt with the idea, dancing from one forehoof to the other, the shadows shifted at the mouth of the cave and hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until the mighty black steed himself was fully exposed to her.

As the stallion approached, he seemed to grow larger and thicker in mass. She could not deny that he was handsome, though her first impression of him lead instantly into slight intimidation. Briefly, he paused to stand quite a distance away, simply staring at her, and she felt his gaze burning into her skin even despite the safe amount of space between them. For a moment, she thought he expected her to approach him, which would make sense, she supposed. Ducking her head, she began to take a single step only to freeze there with her right forelimb extended and her delicately dished head lowered as to not assume a challenging stance as the brute trotted up to her. Her eyes never left the muscles in his body that rippled with his movement, his coat so black, his motions so fluid. He exhumed power, and it affected her to say the least -- though in two greatly different ways. When he was closer, she could see that his eyes were blue, a stark contrast to his ebony frame, and the glare she glimpsed there was directed right at her. She refused to feel afraid at all. Afterall, Cheza really had nothing to lose here. Taking a deep breath as he finally came to stand before her, she dipped her head lower in greeting to him before bringing it back up to its more comfortable position up higher on an arched neck, curtained on the right side by her long white mane. She estimated he was a full five or six inches taller, though much more fuller in muscle over a bold, broad frame. He was definitely larger, in compared to her lithe and sleek build, though she knew she was tall for her body-type and gender, and she tried not to balk (or even ogle) the King. Respectfully, she met his eyes briefly before glancing down to his broad breastplate.

She had been waiting for him to speak, but now knew that he expected her to make the introductions. A bit awkwardly, the mare started. "Good day to you, sir. I know you to be Socrates, and am pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Cheza." Her tone was soft, but laced with respect and underlying strength. Her voice had always been on the softer, and even sultry, side. It often came off gentle, even if she was royally pissed, though now she simply aimed to serve him the respect that he was due. But now for the point. "If you'll have it, sir, I'd very much like to pledge my allegiance and loyalty to you." Lord, she hoped he would allow it. How to explain herself? After a moment, she resorted to simply awaiting a reply from him before she would continue. Let it rest with him to decide how she would proceed thereafter. Either way, she was determined to make her case.

OOC: bleh.. feel like this sucks ><
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The long moment of awkward silence did little to phase the black stallion. He took the time to do a quick once over of the mare. She was sleek in build, with an arched neck, dished head, large eyes and a high set tail. The white splashing that was riddled in large amounts on her hindquarters, legs, and stomach as well as her white mane and tail added a surprising contrast to her otherwise golden and delicate frame. The male couldn’t help but find her appearance endearing. Throughout his life he had seen many a beautiful horse step foot in his beloved Covell, yet it wasn’t often one with such exotic patterns came along. The horses whom came from his homeland were more well known for their conformation, rather than markings. The mere fact that the mare had white on her bolstered his opinion on her immediately. At least when it came to looks. It was no secret to his own herd that any mare with large amounts of white upon her coat was usually favored by the king. His own, brilliantly white queen was a perfect example of that.

As she began to speak and reveal her name, as well as the fact that she somehow knew his, he focused his eyes back on her pretty face. His bright, blue pools appeared a little more welcoming than they had been a moment before probably due to his appraisal of her appearance. As shallow as such a thing was, the king had been raised and taught to show more approval of those that harnessed beauty. It was a trait of his he was trying to overlook more often, but had failed to on many occasions. The existence of Ayla, the great goddess of beauty and life his parents had taught him about long ago, was seared into his mind. As much as he had grown to loath the possible existence of such a being, old habits died hard.

He continued to eye her for a moment, wondering why it was she’d chosen him and his land to pledge herself to. It was natural of him to be overly suspicious, especially in times such as these. For all he knew, she could of come as a spy for his own brother. Such a thought could easily cause his temper to flare, even without any proof of it. His ears twitched back in annoyance, but he kept his cool otherwise. “Tell me” he finally spike “why show your loyalty to me and my kingdom, Cheza? What do you think it has to offer you?” his voice was naturally softer than many would think before hearing it, but it was firm none the less. “What do you think I have to offer you?”.

WORD COUNT: idk
NOTES: --
MUSE: good
VOICE: viggo mortensen as aragorn

[Xenan]

//Cheza

She could feel the exact moment things changed. It was like a pressure was taken from her back during the moments it'd taken her to realize it was up to her to make the introductions. He'd been looking her over, and she wasn't sure what he'd seen exactly, but whatever it was seemed to have dispelled some of the glinting from his bright blue eyes. Cheza wouldn't admit it out loud, but she rather liked the contrast of the blue on black, as well as a certain something she couldn't describe deep within their depths. She couldn't be absolutely sure, but that very something she'd gotten a glimpse of before she'd cast her gaze down was enough to make her feel a mite safer than she had a moment ago. If she hadn't been distracted with speaking to him, she would have smiled at the realization that under the brisk exterior of the big, black stallion, he really was much better than his brother. While she introduced herself, and especially when she'd stated her intent upon entering his kingdom, her brown eyes took on a calm warmth which had always shown her kindness even when she really wished she could look tougher. Was a hard feat for a sleek and delicate-in-appearance mare like herself. She had a good heart, but that was precisely the reason she'd brought herself here to Covell.

The golden palomino appaloosa mare had heard tales along her trek in finding the caves, of the belief system held by its occupants. She'd been told she was a beautiful female and so would fit right into the territory. Of course, Cheza really hadn't completely understood this story of a goddess named Ayla, but she also supposed it wasn't her place to say what could or couldn't be when it came to higher beings. She herself, simply believed that she would spend eternity among the clouds overhead when she died one day, but whatever may be will be in her mind. Upon hearing that she was beautiful and therefore would fit in or be accepted easier, Cheza simply took it in stride and considered it all the more reason that her plan would work and that she was going to the right place. Now it was simply up to her and the King's opinion of her whether or not it would actually be carried out. She realized, especially now that she had lain her own eyes on the stallion, that he had a sort of outer barrier around himself. She'd already conceded the fact that it would likely be due to his at least somewhat unpleasant background. He was absolutely right to shield himself anyway, just as she'd learned she had to do. When there were such treacherous creatures hidden all over the world, one would be incredibly stupid not to be wary. And so, as she'd already known, Chez would simply have to stay her ground about her position and what exactly she wanted here.

Brown gaze watched as the mighty black steed before her eyed her again. His malice may have waned a bit, but that in no way meant she'd gained his trust, and it showed clearly on his face. When his ears flicked back and a different sort of glint entered the King's eyes, she inhaled deep and stood there, looking him straight in the eye so that he may see the truth of her within them. She had absolutely no reason for him to distrust her, even if he didn't believe that, and she had even less of a reason to lie to him. Ears perked up as he spoke, inquiring more of a reason for her being upon his lands. She felt like she was being interrogated, but this of course, was to be expected given his situation, and she couldn't blame him for it. When he'd finished, she lightly nodded her head, continuing to look him in the eye. She didn't smile, didn't butter him up. Cheza was not putting on an act, and didn't want to give him any more of a reason to distrust her. Looking up at him, she gave him her honest answer. "Your land itself should only serve to provide a home, shelter, and safe-keeping. But m'lord, the real reason I'm here in your territory is because we share a hatred for one particular being. Your brother, Voltair." She paused then, bitterness seeping into her tone at the mention of such a foul, loathsome beast. A definite spark entered her usually soft, brown eyes then as she continued. "I want him brought down, and I seek aid in any way that I can get it. I've seen the marks he's lain behind him, not just physical but the emotional scars he's reaped on countless victims. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you or I, nor any of the mares he's taken. Even killed. I seek refuge with you, and should you grant my allegiance with you, no other will share my loyalty." Always the bold and courageous one, Cheza added a serious note to her soft voice. "If it kills me, I will see that bastard put down. I'm not stupid, though, mighty King. I know I can't do this alone." And with that, she finally looked down, back to his breastplate, dipping her head a bit once more as if to say she was now at his mercy. And, in a big way, she was.

OOC: She's honest xD bluntly so
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His attention strayed slightly as his gaze shifted off towards the side, watching a summer butterfly flutter around and not really expecting anything spectacular to come out of the other’s mouth. He expected her to be the usual mare seeking shelter and warmth. Most of his herd was made up of those born and raised in these very lands, yet he’d received many mares during his four and a half years of reign that had come from somewhere outside his home. While they all had their quirks, tales and differences that made them unique, none of them came to him with any spectacular stories or drama. And he preferred it that way.

But then the one name he loathed filled his ebony ears. The name that struck both fear and rage within him. And this mare had spoken it.

Voltiar.

His blue eyes shot back to her, ears pinning back as he shook his head slightly. Almost every ounce of calmness evaporated and he was left tensed as an uneasy feeling creeped upon him. The king wanted to snap at her for speaking that name. He didn’t like hearing that name on his lands. It was bad enough that that jealous beast had even lived here once, and Socrates felt, with every time the name was spoken, his home got a little bit dirtier. Most of his herd knew never to mention his kin unless he himself spoke of it first. And if they did, he’d get mean with them. Now though, the black steed had to remind himself that this newcomer didn’t know the rules. If it had been any other way, the stallion would of given her a good nip. He kept his teeth to himself though, and let her finish.

To be honest, the king didn’t think or feel much for the mares his brother had surely tortured and abused. He hadn’t known any of them, nor seen or spoken to any of them as far as he knew. Therefor the sympathy for their plights was minimal at best. And there was a secret the brute harbored, one he never spoke of. He himself was a rapist, just like that fowl beast whom shared his blood. There was a minor difference though in that Socrates had only raped mares whom had picked fights with him, and he hadn’t done such a horrible deed in quite some time. Every time he had committed such an act, the king had felt tremendous guilt weigh down on his shoulders, and he’d cursed himself for his lack of self control at the time. He never spoke of those sins to this day. He could understand that, being a mare herself and seeing the results, Cheza took his brother’s acts towards females more personal. She hated him for different reasons than he, yet they both seemed to share a common enemy. And yet Socrates had liked to think the threat had died down lately. He liked to hide in his own little world, where Voltair didn’t exist.

“Don’t speak his name” he said firmly, looking at her sharply once her speech was done. His head raised up a little, tail swishing harshly at his black haunches. And then he turned, walking several paces as if he were leaving. But several steps away and he stopped, turning back towards the mare and then repeating the process. Back and forth he paced, head shaking every now and then as he tried to rid unwanted memories of mental and emotional abuse and turmoil and at the same time trying to figure out how to deal with the current situation. It seemed hard for the brute to fathom that another wanted his brother dead just as much as he. She’d brought him out of the little cocoon he had made for himself over the last few weeks. And he wasn’t taking it well.

“Poor Socrates. Father only pretends to love you. He feels sorry for you. You’re scrawny and pathetic and he’s to weak to feed you to the buzzards already” he halted as he faced back towards the caves, his head jerking up violently. “You’re legs are different lengths. Look at the way you limp! Ayla has cursed you” he could remember the sadness and fear his brother had struck in him as a young, naïve colt. Such feeble, childish bullshit and lies that the king now knew were just said out of jealousy, yet somehow it still tormented him to this day. He couldn’t seem to get over it.

Remembering that he had company, the stallion snorted and looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. He hid any signs of the turmoil going on inside his head. The mare wanted Voltair gone from this earth. She wanted to help him fight and destroy the beast. But was he ready? Voltiar was bigger than him. More sinister than him. More intimidating than him. More experienced in battle than him. Now he had one simple question for the mare. “Have you met him?”.

WORD COUNT: idk
NOTES: wow long!
MUSE: good
VOICE: viggo mortensen as aragorn