i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

It was perhaps no secret to those few that knew him in any regard that Alexander particularly abhorred being told he was somehow incapable of doing something. In fact, even those who so meticulously studied his capabilities as a military commander could depict such from the time he spent alive and within the spotlight. He knew all too well that Xerxes was aware of such a noteworthy flaw, having experienced first hand exactly what Alexander was capable of when he set his mind to it. He suspected the man was under the impression that he would die on this venture and leave Xerxes to the cushy life that he had somehow crafted for himself. He hated that smug look at Xerxes face. And so, naturally, he had agreed to the proposition, fully intending to see the task through if only to watch with satisfaction the way Xerxes features would fall when he survived. His fingers drummed on the armrest of the plane as he watched the scenes play out on the small screen in the chair in front of him. The corner of his lips twitch downwards ever so slightly, his eyebrows twitching with clear annoyance despite Frost's assurance that this hollywood pretty boy playing himself certainly could not hear him.

Flying had a way of annoying the Macedonian king. It was still so much of a new thing to him that it still served as a method to make him rather uncomfortable. He'd taken to the history channel if only because his annoyance at their inaccurate ancient times served as a suitable distraction from the rock that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Suffice to say, a good solid ten movies later, Alexander was more than overjoyed when their now much smaller plan settled with a bumpy rock on the snow laden surface of Siberia. Although the man knew well of Frost's capabilities to assist with the bite of the cold, the hunter hardly asked for the touch of his power and his steed too hardly offered it. Quite frankly, he didn't trust the creature enough to keep him warm throughout the entire trip. As pertinent as Frost claimed he was, Alexander suspected it fully within the creature's capabilities to simply 'forget' of the cold if it suited his fancy. And so, three warm winter jackets later and Alexander was left standing with snow up to his ankles in snow on the runway, once again reminded of how much he hated the frigid temperatures. God he hated Russia.

A single glance was all that was given towards the shifting were-horse before Alexander turned his attention towards the young woman that made her way towards them. Despite the simple fact that he hardly knew her, Alexander welcome her embrace, taking the time to kiss her politely on the cheek that as she pulled away, shouting over the howl of the wind. "It's a pleasure to meet you Cassandra." He nodded ever so slightly as the woman continued, confirming information he already well knew. During the time Frost had slept, Alexander had taken full use of the airplane's wifi to do his own digging into the terrain and route he would soon be thrown into. He knew well the forecast for the next week and had revisited the files he'd received on what little information they had of the coven and it's members. After all, the man disliked going into battle blind.

The mention of the saddle saw Alexander turn his attention towards the young boy and his horse in question, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Normally, saddles were hardly required by the Macedonian king. After all in battle they were but a hinderance. However, this wasn't battle and the supplies in the attached bags were, sadly, a necessity. With a grunt Alexander made his way towards Frost and the poor boy, making sure with his footsteps alone that Frost knew exactly where he was before he reached out to touch the pony. He pushed on the horse's left side, fully intending to use his own force to get Frost to move right towards where the boy struggled with the hefty saddle in his hands. "No, he's not like the other ones." He commented over the wind, ignoring the steed assurance that they would make it in half the time, mentally, he could hardly help the thought that rolled through his mind - "Yes, we might make half the time if you'll be helpful long enough to get this god damned saddled on." Then again, the cold never did bring out the best in him.