we built this city on broken glass

He was oblivious, largely, to the very depth of consideration Alexander so afforded that situation with Darius and himself and that purely animalistic need to dominate one another both stallions so readily displayed. That a genuine fight between the pair was almost imminent was surely clear and yet Frost himself readily welcomed the idea. Darius had led those other equine unopposed for years while simultaneously being praised by those very Hunters they served as the best they had ever bred. Yet, the Barb was getting older. That black stallion reaching the end of those prime years as Frost had only just begun to enter his. That natural order of things near demanded a new leader, the white war horse impatient to put his strength against the other stallion and settle that argument between them- even if it was likely to take more then merely one battle. A brawl that promised to be as bloody as any battle ever had. That Alexander, rightly, intended to put them both in check had hardly occurred to the stallion in any sense. His thoughts so inclined to become near singular in the presence of his equine comrade. Perhaps there would be no battle today and yet, he had not missed that look of surprise upon the other equines features at the sheer size Frost had grown too in those past few months since they had last seen one another. Darius would not underestimate him again.

That singular touch upon his withers managed to draw his thoughts back towards the Hunter himself, Frost momentarily distracted from those ideas of leadership by Alexander's presence as his foreleg lifted upward in a near instinctive response to allow the man to swing up and onto his back. That touch of heels to his side at last drawing his attention away from Darius and those thoughts of home. Frost more then willing to take them both there. That returning journey was significantly more swift then the ride there had been. With no concern any longer for the reserves off his own energy Frost was content to set a faster pace he was assured Alexander would hardly complain about. His own affinity extended to embrace his rider and himself in those moments and keep the chill of that rain from reaching their very bones. It was no small mercy to be free of those grasping trees and tiny trails, Frost eagerly increasing that pace once more the moment they reached the sidewalk and open street. His heavy, feathered hooves rung out across that pavement and yet so early in the morning there was hardly another being present to give way to that sound. That silence between the pair broken only by those very thoughts he so at last allowed to press to the Hunter's mind. Alexander, it seemed, holding no sure fear of the Council's response to their veritable assassination of its Cavalry Commander. There was, Frost had come to realise, little Alexander ever did, or said, without conviction. It was a...satisfying trait and yet the equine still could not bring himself to hold that same faith or trust in the very organisation that had let him down so desperately throughout his life. Then again, they surely cared for Hunters more than horses. Besides, if Alexander had reformed it once, could he not do it again? The use of the word 'boy' so promoting an irritable snort from the stallion once more.

"I think you trust to much, but we will see."

Alexanders assurance that he had asked the dying Xerxes about that coin and too, promised him that death he was surely owed was not at all what Frost had anticipated and yet such a response seemed satisfactory all the same. The appearance, at last, of Alexander's cafe was a welcomed sight. That shift in the mans pace seeing that canter slow readily down until the heavy horse came to a halt outside that building. Frost waited until the Hunter swung from his back before allowing that shift to overtake him. His muddied, wet, naked form left waiting in that downpour for several moments longer as Alexander carefully removed his own shoes before returning with that dark towel. Frost near assured he could feel the man's eyes boring into him as he cleaned his feet, the very suggestion that he was not about to entertain a single mark on that otherwise pristine floor a very near unspoken conversation. The stallion paused to wordlessly allow Alexander to examine his feet before brushing past him and towards that promised soap and shower.

Nothing he was assured, felt nearly so good as that hot water did in those moments. Frost working to remove those layers of mud and earth and leaves he had become coated in. The stallion spent several moments merely standing beneath that stream of hot water, watching as that dirt ran from his figure and so attempting to prevent that uneasy that danced upon the edge of his thoughts in a fashion he had long since believed he had overcome. He had managed, for years, to shutdown any genuine sense of emotion he held towards any being. After all- he had come to discover from a decidedly young age that he was very near designed to be little more than a disposable beast of burden. The world was made to disappoint him in some fashion or another. It was simply easier to prevent any real attachment to anyone or anything because, in the end, he would only be let down all over again.

Yet still, despite it all, despite his very attempts to convince himself otherwise he could hardly shake that feeling of displeasure that came with the idea that the very deal he had struck with Alexander was so essentially over. It was a foolish, wretched thought to entertain and how he loathed himself for it and yet he could hardly deny some fleeting consideration that Alexander might desire to continue their partnership of sorts-even without a war to fight. He had....enjoyed having a purpose. That very admittance, even to himself, prompting that heavy sigh as he stepped from that shower. The stallion emerging from the bathroom several moments later thoroughly clean and dressed once more. The man uttering that assurance he would be downstairs before leaving his Hunter companion to see to his own needs. Hunger, it seemed, was by far his most pressing issue in that moment. Frost content to pilfer that kitchen for anything left over from the days service, the man at last finding that near half a cake that was duly uncovered and placed on the table before him before he collapsed into that armchair to pick at it.

Those equally disparaging thoughts continued to tug at his mind, those emotions he had ignored for so desperately long and all but forgotten the existence off were beginning to tug at him in a manner he found irritable. He anticipated, entirely, for Alexander to simply dismiss him- even despite all they had been through. Those very barriers already beginning to wrap firmly around him in preparation for just that. That frosted exterior seeming to rear at the mere sight of the man descending those stairs. Frost content to protect himself in the manner he knew best. Alexander presented with that cold, blunt, indifferent exterior he had so managed to thaw over those months they had spent together. Frost's words hardly warm in any sense as he very near prompted to Hunter to get on with that business of getting rid of him. That violet gaze resting sharply on the other man as he simply saw to making himself a cup of tea before abruptly tossing that medallion across the counter and towards him. That sound of that metal hitting the table almost overly loud in that otherwise quiet space. Alexander's voice near deadpan then as he quite simply commanded him to put that plate away when he was done.

Why had he ever believed anything different of this man?

Frost's very jaw seemed to set almost firmly. Such an action near imperceptibly small and yet that silence seemed to echo once more in the wake of it. A decidedly uncomfortable silence. He had been a damned fool to think that this time it might be different. All those years and he still had not learned. Those icy barricades rapidly seemed to fortify all the more and yet, somehow, that near metaphorical spear had managed to get through all the same. Alexander was hardly doing anything wrong, the Hunter abiding by that very deal they had made and yet he had anticipated something from the man. Even if only some assertion he had....done a good job. He had never needed any praise before so why the fuck should it matter now. It didn't. None of it mattered.

"Make me."

The words were snapped so suddenly they seemed to near crack in the air. Frost content to do just what he did best in that singular moment and offer Alexander the only response he had truly been taught to give. Wilful rebellious aggression. Those words directly challenging as his gaze met the Hunter's own. Another snort forced from him then. Those equally cold, sharp words thrown bluntly towards the Hunter now.

"Clean up after me? We just spent the entire night cleaning up after you because you couldn't do your goddamn job in the first place! Xerxes lived because you failed. Maybe if you'd managed to kill him when you were supposed to I'd still have both my bloody eyes. Clean it up yourself."

That medallion was snatched easily from the table then. That object seeming to near respond to Frost's hand upon it, a faint glow suddenly seeming to immenate from it and yet the Icelandic man paid it little heed as it was shoved within his pocket. Frost rising then to push away from that table. The stallion seming to hesitate for the briefest of moments, as if he so desired to say something and yet the words hardly came. Frost merely striding back across that room and out of the door- slamming it with distinct force behind him and he strode back into the rain.

...............

"Well, it has been at least a century since I've seen anyone slam a door on you, Alexanderous. Although, you must admit, you could have handled that with a little more tact, Mon Amie." Matteo's voice echoed easily from that newly vacated armchair and beside that unfinished game of Risk the pair had so been interrupted from earlier. The Frenchman's gaze lingered upon that board itself, his fingers reaching to pluck one of his own blue pieces and slide them toward that stronghold in Pakistan his companion had built. His silver eyes studied that playing field with a distinct care before he spoke once more. Those accented lyrics holding a softness all the same. "Let him go for now. He is so, so young and he is angry at the world. Tonight, you were merely someone to direct that at- though I suspect you know just what he is mad about."

One eye lifted just so then. Matteo turning to meet his dearest companions gaze in that moment before gesturing to that armchair opposite him and waiting for the Macedonian to tumble into it. He offered nothing of that future he had seen, or the very history that man opposite him and that irritable stallion were so destined to make. Alexander had never liked to be told off his own future terribly much, the Hunter remaining near assured he was capable of creating his own no matter what fate or destiny might say. Matteo inclined to believe him. Fate Defier's were rare and yet- he suspected Alexander had been born as just such an entity. Frost the only other being Matteo had ever suspected might hold that same innate ability. Yet for now he said nothing. Frost would be fine. Alexander, he suspected, would be too. "Tell me about the battle while you take your turn, it seems a decisive victory. Though I hardly doubted you. It seems you haven't lost your talent yet." That soft chuckle easily accompanied that gentle ribbing, Matteo as content to hear that tale as he always was.

FrosT