It sounds as rumbling thunder, an impending storm that gathers pace, swifter and faster within the growing darkness before the inevitable strike of steel on road perhaps gives way to the true identification of this oncoming storm. Most of the shops have long since closed, this part of town fallen silent without the myriad of customers that bring life to the small, boutique stores that only the locals seem to know exist down this particular street and yet it would seem this, quaint and quiet road within the East, devoid now of cars this late afternoon, has given way to a far more ancient method of transport. A drag race of an entirely different sort that sees the growing darkness emit an unlikely partnership of Hunter and Were as two horses round the corner in a veritable explosion of speed, locked neck on neck in this final and flat sprint to the end of the street. Both are dark creatures, one a rich and mahogany bay, almost a pony of sorts. His rider is an older man, a Hunter well within his fifties and yet such is the fitness of the Hunter species that he seems no worse for wear then his much younger companion, a red-haired youth also of the Hunter breed, his Were-mount a chestnut creature off a larger size, his longer limbs now making easier work of this flat and final sprint as both men and horses seem to make this final, desperate charge towards an imagined finish line. The small, unimposing coffee house, The Inner Sanctum, seeming to have been pre-selected as the end of this race that now sees both Hunters leaning forward within their saddles, each desperately determined to have their horse cross the line before the other, the sounds of yips and yahoos echoing down the street in as much the same manner as the ring of steel shoes before the inevitable argument over just who had won seems to break out as the horses at last swing to a stop beneath their bickering riders. The bay moves to lift his own head, lip lifting upward in a silent horse-like laugh that sees the chestnut squeal and strike towards him, the Were's clearly content to argue along with their riders.

The lot of them, were, in Frosts opinion. Sickening.

The larger stallion trails behind the group, his own hooves, free of the shoes his brethren seem content to have demoralised themselves to wearing are far more silent upon the road. If he is concerned by the presence of Hunters he offers no such indication. Frost had long ago become somewhat accustomed to the stench of Hunters and their proximity. What he had not become accustomed to however, was the manner in which the group before him continued to behave, his fellow Were's, equines like himself, seeming entirely content in the presence of their Hunter companions- so much so that they acted as if they were..... friends. It was a ridiculously stupid notion, one the young man had never truly been capable of perceiving, even despite his time within Russia and amongst this particularly group- a group that had existed even within his own Icelandic homeland. They claimed it was a partnership, a number of the Hunters whom worked in these remote countries and regions having formed a truce of sorts with the WereHorse population alone, granting them amnesty in exchange for their service, carrying their Hunter companions across terrain otherwise too hostile for a man on foot, chasing down Were and Witch and Vampire alike upon those rugged plains that horse alone could travel. Was it not sacrilegious enough that they seemed content to become beasts of burden? Did they truly have to lower themselves so much so that they professed to....enjoy it?

It is little more then a snort of disdain that passes the stallions nostrils as he continues to stride forward and towards the bickering group. Yet he offers no effort in this movement, feathered feet trailing lackadaisically, almost callously upon the road- as if he utterly refuses to be hurried. It is an eclectic group perhaps, that has found itself outside the Inner Sanctum tonight and yet it is this final Were that proves to be the oddity amongst them. He is larger than his companions, taller then either horse, heavier, more powerful- every stride exuding this ready dominance above them. They are darker in the coming night and yet his own pelt, that mix of white and cream in the fading sun offers a glow of white gold that so offsets the lengthening shadows. His mane, that cascading waterfall of snowy-white, remains entirely free of the plaits and trimmings the Hunters so seem to befit their companions with, as if they were poodles to be prettied, lashings of white forelock given to drape readily across his eyes and arched neck as he pauses before them and yet away from them- with them and yet not. Come with us Frost. The words that touch against his mind see those violet eyes turned towards the pony-like bay, ears lacing back into the thickness of his mane.

"You sicken me- the lot of you, why would I attend a parade of the ridiculous?"

Those words remain as cool and calm as ever, serpents tongue delivering this single lashing of venom without a flicker of emotion, the other Were flinching slightly at this blow before Damien moved to rest a hand against his companions bay shoulder as he swung from the saddle, this Hunter befit with the rare gift to understand the speak of Were's within animal form- shooting Frost a withering look. Let it go Arch- he's always been bitter just because he can't find his-.

"Do not press your luck Damien, you either Nathaniel."

Strange violet eyes slice sideways and towards the second Hunter whom had paused to whisper something into the ear of the chestnut horse, Fyer, that Frost truly did not need to hear to know it was in regards to himself- one foreleg struck suddenly towards him as his own horse shied sharply to the side, nearly unseating him in entirely in an effort to avoid Frosts agitation, the group falling into silence once more, neither of the other WereHorses willing to press the patience of a creature both have acknowledged as dominant to themselves. Damien alone seemed willing to argue further before those cold eyes of the stallion fall upon him once more, the Hunter muttering to himself before abruptly moving to walk away, the others readily following his lead. Then don't come you insufferable bastard, stay here and brood and deny the purpose we offered to give your life. Fucking stallions.

"Bite me."

It is this final utterance in conjunction with the manner in which the white stallion offers a flash of his teeth that sees the man throw his arms in the air, proceeding to storm back up the road with the others in tow, only Archer lingering momentarily beside his friend, asking him once more to consider coming to the nights festivities before trotting after Damien like a trained dog- a snort of sorts released as his old....friends departed, affording Frost the peace he seemed constantly denied. For a moment the towering stallion merely remains upon the road, neck stretched briefly forward to allow himself to shake, as if attempting to rid himself of the sensation that came from being in the presence of those he so....disrespected for their choices- before one indefinable and delectable scent seemed to permeate the air about. A single window of the Coffee House has been left ajar and yet it is not the aroma of coffee that so lures the stallion- but that single and sinful weakness to which he cannot deny himself- an indulgence so very rare and yet one he seems incapable of denying now. Ears prick forward atop his handsome skull, listening for the sounds of any other before that softened muzzle presses against the window, softly, softly easing it all the more before the proud and sculpted head reaches through and extends toward the nearest table. It takes barely a moment to knock the sugar jar to the side, spilling out the sugar cubes across the table cloth, lips working to pull one between his teeth for that instant reward of delicious sweetness, a satisfied rumbling vibrating within the powerful creature before it reaches for the next- entirely content to pilfer the coffee house of it's sweeteners until that satisfied crunching only a horse can make echoes through it's walls.....