we built this city on broken glass

Frost was largely oblivious in those moments that followed Alexander's arrival to the true extent of just how much control the Hunter wielded over that very situation nor the manner in which Alexander had come prepared for that very frigid exterior he was presented with so acutely. Frost so often prided himself on his ability to read others. It was, after all, a talent of the equine species and of the Icelander himself and yet in Alexander he had met his veritable match. The Hunter equally skilled, if not more so, in deducing the outcomes of that discussion and so deliberately choosing his words in a fashion designed to coax Frost toward that very answers he desired. Alexander so offering the War Horse the unexpected in those moments if only to destabilise the very fortification of those barriers the stallion had been quick to present him with. Frost unaware of the extent his human form, like its equine counterpart, gave away the very depths of those emotions through stance alone. He had perhaps, forever been destined to lose this verbal brawl against a man two thousand years his senior whom had all but perfected that art. Yet for once, a part of him almost hardly minded. He liked Alexander (most of the time). The Macedonian the only rider he had ever held even an ounce of respect for in that long line of failed partners he had been presented with. Alexander the only being he had ever sought to....impress, perhaps, that desire for approval from the man one that Frost continued to deny even despite his assurance that perceived rejection some weeks ago had surely cut all the deeper based upon that notion alone. Frost remaining guarded in those moments, his words deadpan, short and lacking any real vigor- that stallion hardly one to forget those perceived wrongs against him.

Nor the names of those he believed had caused them. That singular mention of the blackened barb stallion prompted that ready retort from Frost once more, those biting words finding his lips quite before he could prevent them. Frost realising to late that he had fallen readily to that ploy Alexander had so effortlessly presented him with. A huff of sorts expelled a moment later as he cut those very words short. Darius, it seemed, a topic Frost simply could not abide leaving be in any sense. The stallion assured the Barb was hardly the equine athlete the Unit and its riders seemed to think of him as. Darius, he was sure, was the success of his good fortune and better circumstance and little else. That begrudging part of him determined to ignore the stallions stellar military record and high level of training he had subject himself too while Frost had been far busier throwing those riders and proving almost unhandleable. That single, near noncommittal shrug Alexander presented him with only further seemed to irritate him. His jaw set in that hard line as the hunter merely professed to Darius' noteworthiness as a mount and his current lack of rider before seeming to consider the idea of taking a new colt entirely. One from amongst the ranks of the hundred and fifty or so new mounts that facility produced every year. Frost snorting softly then.

"A boy of fifteen years old? Did you know that is how young they are when they are deemed ready to actually be ridden into war? At thirteen years old they choose which ones they will train and start that training, by fifteen they deem that basic training finished and find them a permanent rider. They are not even fully grown horses yet, let alone men. I hardly knew you were so keen to adopt a child."

Fifteen in human years was no more then three in those equine years. Those newest mounts decidedly young in every sense of the word and yet half of them would hardly see adulthood. The Unit could not wait any longer for them to grow up, they were needed now. Frost hardly oblivious to the logic of it nor, perhaps, the very notion that were Alexander to choose a colt from those ranks he would be a truly fortunate colt. One Alexander could train from the ground up. It would take sufficient time, more time then he was sure Alexander intended to spend on a colt not yet even a stallion.

"It would take several more years before he was any real use to you."

Why he was so determined to point out the faults of that plan he hardly knew. A feeling of...displeasure at the idea of Alexander having someone else perhaps prompting those sharp words. Yet, for all the words he had anticipated, for the very action of force he had warily suspected from the blonde man before him he was hardly prepared for that affection that came instead, nor that hand that rested softly against his cheek. Frost was so entirely blindsided by that singular action that the Icelandic man was rendered near immobile in the moments that followed. That initial, near instinctive desire to bat his companions hand away was readily halted. Frost simply allowing that touch, no part of him holding any true belief Alexander meant him harm. The very depths of that trust so coaxed into fruition by those battles they had already fought so permitting the hunter th run his thumb right beneath that blinded eye the stallion guarded so viciously. A touch he permitted no other outside Nadya herself.

Those moments of silence that followed seemed to last far longer than they truly did. Such affection never before offered to him in any fashion so unexpected in that moment his mind was near slow to process it. That Alexander had not abandoned him as he had believed was a slow thought to permeate that barrier of disdain he had formed. His mind struggling to process those realisations of choice and freedom he had never once been offered and so at last found himself presented with all at once. Frost allowing his hand to lift upward and take Alexanders in his own- affording it that single, firm shake of agreement and that softly uttered insistence that Darius would hardly suit him. That simper that found the Hunter's lips, for once, mirrored upon the stallions own. Those uttered icelandic words duly returned in yet another surprise and yet perhaps he should not have been so taken aback by the Macedonian's knowledge off his own native language. There was little, he suspected, that Alexander did not know and yet for now he saw little need to question it. That moment of agreement between them truly subtle and without fanfare and yet- perhaps that suited them both.

"Til loka línunnar" (Till the end of the line.)

He uttered simply in that singular agreement. Each of those words truly meant as his hand at last released the man's own. That placidity seemingly returned to them then as Alexander lent back against the rail to peer across that street. Frost leaning back against the house in turn as those new questions pressed at the forefront of his thoughts. He was hardly a man inclined to talking at the best of times and yet these questions required answers. Just how Alexander had taken over the role of High Commander a near pressing one. Frost perhaps not near s surprised by that reply as he should have been. One eye merely arching upwards at that near sheepish response.

"I am almost sad I missed such a conversation. I have never seen one threaten the Council and survive it. Either they fear you will make good on your promise or they recognise your talent for leading- perhaps both."

His lip so managed to quirk slightly once more in that vague display of amusement. To see someone, anyone, get the better of the Council was satisfying to him. Frost displeased at the notion he truly had missed seeing that conversation and yet a part of the stallion suspected it was for that promise to him that Alexander had taken up that mantle all the same. A debt of gratitude he would not forget even if he hardly voiced it. Frost considering instead that work to be done to overhaul that Unit. The man nothing if not business minded when it should suit him. Even if Alexander seemed unwilling to retire Darius to pasture just yet. Frost snorting softly at the sentiment and yet it was the idea of a Lieutenant that overrode even his own displeasure in Darius' continued service in that moment.

"You have chosen a Lieutenant already? Who did you choose? It was not Mason Craig was it? He might well be in line for promotion but he is a fool of a Hunter prone to thoughtless decision."

That Alexander had more than merely bucked the trend of politically correct promotions was yet to be seen. Frost mentally considering those Hunters he knew would be vying for that very position, at least six other names finding place within his thoughts then. None of them terribly pleasing. Yet how satisfied Darius would be to learn he was an Officers mount once more. A position the Barb seemed to believe was his by right and yet one that still rested a rank beneath Frost's own. That was perhaps the most satisfying thought he had considered all day. One interrupted then by Alexander's mention off his own vector and a daughter. Those further questions, it seemed, tugging at his thoughts once more as his features frowned in that consideration. Alexander, it seemed, had known off his vector for some time. Those words chosen then with care.

"Calliel has near no training, though provided you do not place her on any front line I have no cause to find disdain in her inclusion. If you would place your own daughter on her then I am inclined to believe you would not send either of them to fights they are not skilled enough for. Calliel is stubborn, wilful, childish, prone to believing the world owes her something- but she is smart and some of the better horses i've known have held some of those traits. She has chosen not to seek my help so far, despite my door being open to her but I have no issue with her. You have never spoken of a daughter before though. Is she a child of your blood or your creation?"

It was only logical, he supposed, that Alexander would have created at least one 'child' in his long life- or in the very least fathered any number of them and yet the man had never made any such mention. Still, Frost himself had never mentioned any off his own born from blood or creation in turn. Alexander's choice in this could hardly be faltered. Frost content to continue to lean back against the house for some moments yet as those further questions danced upon the confines of his thoughts. Those violet eyes glancing toward Alexander once more.

"I would invite you in but my girlfriend and stepchildren are all felines. You will sneeze yourself to death before the day is done. I have more questions about your plans for the Unit. Do you want to go for a ride?"

It was a decidedly rare thing for Frost to offer that ride for no reason at all and yet the noise of his own home, the traffic of the road and the prying ears of his neighbours prompted that singular desire for space from it all and the simple pleasantness those rides often provided him. Frost unable to remember that time they had ridden simply for the sake of it.

FrosT