we built this city on broken glass

He had smelled it so many times before and yet that strong, salty, metallic smell of blood seemed to permeate even the rain and damp earth as it bubbled from that wound in Xerxes chest while the age-old Hunter lay dying. A thousand years of life, if not more- and this was how the man died. Bleeding out in the mud. Perhaps life had its winners and losers and yet death was an eternally equalizer. Perhaps the only truly exceptional part of Xerxes demise was that he could surely claim to have been killed by Alexander the Great. One of several hundred thousand he was sure. Yet- Frost held distinctly little sympathy for the Hunter in any sense. The ivory stallion strode obediently from the tree line and across that sodden field towards the gasping man. One violet eye rolled briefly sideways, assuring himself Shepherd still had the attention of those immortals and a stray arrow was not about to lodge itself within the flesh of either his or Alexanders sides. A single, abrupt snort echoed from within the stallion, forcing that water from his nostrils, his breath rising like smoke in the chill of the rain as he moved. He could feel Alexanders satisfaction in that kill. Those emotions seeming to pass effortlessly between them. Frost taking his own pleasure in that death. Xerxes had caused him no small amount of grief. Half off his vision had been lost at that man's hands. Such a wound having seen near half that mounted brigade- and several commanders- believe him useless because of it. Perhaps it had hampered him to begin with and yet he had learned survive with only one eye. Alexander himself had hardly seemed to care for that injury all the same. The hunter resting upon his spine one of the few whom seemed near blatantly unconcerned by it. Frost...thankful for that, even if he hardly cared to admit it.

The sudden rippling of that darkness readily saw the war horse tense once more, his own neck arching over in that clearly aggressive position. Frost distinctly aware of Darius in those few moments before the stallion appeared. A warning already sent effortlessly towards Alexander just incase the Barb should take it upon himself to defend his dying rider as he was trained to do. Frost's ears layering backward into the thickness off his own mane in clear disdain for the other horse. The rivalry between then pair surely clear in that singular moment and yet perhaps it was only to be anticipated. Darius had reigned as an Alpha amongst those equine ranks for years. Frost, more then once, subject to the older horses aggression and yet, in that past year, Frost had outgrown the other stallion. His own frame taller, heavier and more powerful than that reigning leader. That balance of power precariously beginning to tilt in a fashion both remained aware off. Alexanders sudden assurance he had no intention of killing the black stallion only prompting a further sound of irritation from Frost himself and yet he was hardly inclined to worry about the petty details of hierarchy here now. Darius could be dealt with later. Frost oblivious to his own riders intention of using the black stallion as a backup plan of sorts for those ideas already turning within his mind.

Alexander slid easily from his figure then. Frost merely watching that exchange, those words so uttered in that Persian tongue unknown to him and in that moment he hardly cared to question them as Alexanders hand rested on the dying man's cheek and that medallion that had been the cause of their partnership was tucked into the Hunter's pocket. For several moments longer his own gaze lingered upon that amulet. Frost trusting Alexander would hardly betray him now even if some part of the equine remained wary all the same. This time, for the first time, a simple unwillingness to believe his.....friend.....would cheat him pressed more ardently over those concerns. Whether he would pay for such misplaced faith remained to be seen. Frost's own affinity summoned to life than to see what little warmth remained in Xerxes body and hasten the man into that embrace of death. Frost offering the barest utterance off his intention as he stood vigil beside his rider then. Waiting for those last rasping, rattling breaths that finally saw Xerxes depart that life into whatever hell existed on the other side.

Good riddance.

His own nose lowered briefly towards that body then, Frost nudging it roughly if only to assure himself the man was dead. That scent of 'life' no longer lingering upon his figure as Alexander knelt all the same to search for that pulse Frost knew he would hardly find. The sound of those hooves drew his gaze upward as Shepherd returned with the other Immortals in tow. None of those men seeming at all interested in defending a dead commander. This, Frost suspected, was how these Immortals had lived so very long when the rest of their unit had perished. Sense a much undervalued trait. The sudden challenge of that black stallion however was one he hardly intended to ignore. Darius having the audacity to attempt to command him. Even despite that wounded and now horrible swollen limb that Barb easily reared upward. Frost rising to meet him in that clear challenge and yet it was decidedly short lived. Darius readily conceding to that wound as Frost merely brought his own hooves back to the ground. The pair eyeing each other readily. That battle to be saved for another day as Darius turned away- allowing his bridle to be taken.

Alexander's hand upon his wither saw the heavy stallion lift that foreleg readily, allowing the Hunter to use it as a step to vault easily onto his back once more. Frost pressing those thoughts towards the other man then. It would hardly take long for the Council to hear of the death of its own men, especially not when the Unit before them returned with a riderless horse. Alexander, it seemed, inclined to allow them to do just that. A flicker of surprise danced but briefly upon the stallions features, that disgruntlement clear and yet- even Frost was willing to admit the rain offered him little joy. His head tossed in that near dismissive gesture towards those others then. The Immortal upon Shepherds back offered Alexander a salute of some kind as Frost merely turned. The group likely to take that body back with them to be buried. Not that Xerxes deserved as such. His own form shifted from that walk and into that ground covering trot, that very pace one he was capable of maintaining for near days on end if need be. The stallion carrying them across that field and toward home.

"Sometimes I do not know if you are merciful or have been to long out of practice of the business of war that your forget the cunning of others. They will tell the Council we murdered Xerxes- unprovoked. Perhaps it hardly matters, it is done all the same. What did you say to him, at the end, when you touched his face?"

Those very words were offered to the mind of the Hunter alone as they finally freed themselves of those trees and returned to the sidewalk. Frost's hooves clopping against the concrete as that thunder rumbled and sputtered overheard. That rain still coming down in lashings. That near clear, open path however readily saw the stallions pace increase into that swift canter. His affinity increased in that moment to keep the both of them warm. That ride taking just under an hour to see them at last turn on to Alexander's street. Frost cantering eagerly forward before that shift in Alexanders weight saw him obediently slow. His form pressed closer to the buildings to use them for cover before at last halting outside Alexanders own cafe.

He waited only so long as it took Alexander to climb from his back and open that cafe door. Frost allowing that shift to overtake him then. That towering stallion replaced with that rather small and thoroughly mud-streaked man. His arms and legs were near coated in that wet earth, those hooves having kicked an near equally great deal up his stomach and chest. His hair, back and face remaining mercifully free of that substance.

"Where's this shower of yours?- and that good soap you talked about too."

Alexander was no less wet and yet the man's coat had offered his torso and arms a great deal more protection from that mud in the least. Frost assured, by that comparison, that he was surely entitled to go first. The stallion waiting dutifully outside to be handed a towel all the same to wipe his feet before stepping into that cafe. He reached carefully for those clothes Alexander had left folded for him earlier before following the Hunter upstairs to that aforementioned shower. Frost entirely eager to find himself beneath that hot water. That first touch of it nothing short of perfect as he sighed. The stallion merely letting it run over him for several minutes as his gaze simply closed. Finally- they were rid of Xerxes. The man a veritable thorn in his side in every sense and yet- he hardly felt that satisfaction he had anticipated. Some sense of....unease resting within him still. How...frustrating. Should he not feel pleased that the man was dead and too- his amulet had been (almost) returned? In the least Xerxes no longer possessed it and Alexander was unlikely to deny giving it to him and yet still the stallion found himself dissatisfied. Frost near unable to pinpoint just what seemed to be prompting this....emotion he was so unused to feeling. The stallion so refusing to accept that any such feelings of discontent might at all be attached to the notion that Alexander surely had no need of him any longer and that he, in turn, surely had no need of the Hunter. That had struck a deal- one that was very near completed. It was business and nothing more and yet that near wretched emotion continued to persist. He had....liked having a use. Having a purpose. He had liked Alexander even if he stubbornly continued to deny it to himself.

It was some minutes later that Frost finally stepped from that shower, his form significantly cleaner and dressed once more before uttering simply that he would wait downstairs while Alexander saw to his own shower. He paused only once within that kitchen, that hunger gnawing at him enough to prompt him to address it, Frost content to pilfer that kitchen until a left over cake had been located. The stallion collapsing into the nearest chair a moment later, that half a cake placed on the table before him as he simply became content to pick at it in an effort to satisfy that hunger. It was hardly long before the sound of Alexander returning saw those violet eyes glance upward. That conversation to be had seeming to prompt a silence of sorts for several moments. One Frost could hardly stand to abide for once.

"Well?"

That single word was almost cold in its offering, if not decidedly blunt and yet that the stallions nature had shifted into something almost brazenly.....defensive, was perhaps decidedly clear. He anticipated, simply, that Alexander was here to give him that medallion and dismiss him. The stallion once having desired that very thing and yet, somehow, it had changed. He had almost enjoyed meaning something to someone. Even if the idea of it was near ludicrous. The equine wholly steeling himself for that very dissolution of that partnership he was sure was coming as he merely eyed the man before him with the same attempt at apathy and that weary armor against the world he was so used to wielding he hardly knew how not too.

FrosT