Alexander Macedonia

when I walk into the room there's nothing you can do
To stop me from making moves
I'm coming for you

How attentive those oceanic irises were to the leather straps that encircled his stallion's frame. He had felt the shift of the saddle upon Frost's back the moment those wings had sprouted, pushing Alexander backward ever so slightly to make room for those newfound appendages. He was aware, equally so, that something surely would have to be done to alleviate the rubbing of those leather straps against those new joints, if the Dark-Hunter so expected Frost to fly for any true length of time. Alexander watched astutely as the large stallion shifted his weight, testing the movement and how the saddle pressed against his flesh. He anticipated, admittedly, Frost's admission of discomfort, the Macedonian King already contemplating the contents of his saddlebag and what might be utilized to offset it, albeit temporarily. That audible consideration of cloth between the saddle and appendage, however, was one he hardly dwelt upon long before the Hunter announced his intentions to inspect Frost's wing.

Though their years together had finally constructed some level of trust within the once unruly stallion, Alexander so often made every effort to ensure the equine was capable of tracking him in some manner whenever he stood within that literal blind spot. His fingers ran alongside the steed's side, brushing over those feathered wings and across those feathers towards the very place stained with crimson. A soft breath left his lips as his oceanic gaze eyed the laceration that so disrupted those otherwise magnificent wings. Tenderly, Alexander's fingers shifted Frost's feather's in an attempt to get a better look at the damage. His touch alone prompted the steed to jerk backward, though Alexander was not one to be easily dissuaded. Softly he shushed the stallion as he reached again for the wounded wing, his examination nothing short of entirely through before he finally released Frost from his grasp. That laceration, he was certain, was hardly out of Frost's capability to heal and yet, it would most certainly keep him grounded - a luxury they did not have. Given their current position within the narrow valley, if it could be called that, flight was the only way to get back upon their path and stay within the race. The rain pouring down above them was another problem, the ground underfoot already so soaked that the water was beginning to collect upon the surface. The Dark Hunter was quick to come to a decision, Alexander announcing Frost would merely transfer the wound to him instead. For now, they needed Frost's wings far more than they needed his shoulder. That singular utterance of his name drew the weight of his oceanic gaze towards his steed. A single brow rose in a vague hint of a challenge and yet...he was certain Frost's disagreement would be short lived.

For a moment, his steed seemed to struggle with the very idea before he came to the same, inevitable conclusion. That small nod was the only response the Dark Hunter needed before he set himself to the task at hand, digging through his saddlebag in an effort to find something that might assist in alleviating the irritation the saddle might cause his steed. His gaze hardly deviated from his rifling even at Frost's insistence that flying was hardly fair. It was a fact that Alexander was well aware of, though the Macedonian had little intention of utilizing those wings to gain some advantage in the race. His pride, in this, was his greatest weakness. There would be little other chance to finally prove that he was the superior rider in comparison to Khan, not when he so intended to see to the Mongolian's death at the end of the race. It was that very mention of the mountain that seemed to ensnare the stallion's violent eyes, though Alexander himself paid little heed to it as he finally plucked two thick woolen socks from the depths of his bag. Dutifully, the Monarch tied each of those woolen socks to the sections of the leather that seemed to be the biggest culprit, the additional layer of the cloth lifting the entire strap just slightly off his steed's figure. It was hardly ideal but, given their situation, it would do.

He took a step back, eying his handiwork before nodding ever so slightly to himself, Frost far more critical of the application of the footwear. "No one should be seeing you fly." Alexander pointed out at the Draft's commentary, "We can take them off when we get back on the path." His own blue-green irises turned upwards and towards that path that had been all but obliterated within the landslide. Hopefully, Their appearance within the air would go largely unnoticed...presuming that GPS tracker did not give away their unusual speed. The thought prompted a small frown upon his lips, even as he turned his attention towards those large ivory wings Frost struggled to move. Alexander's suggestion that they should surely move much in the manner of the stallion's tail prompted an almost biting, albeit venomless, retort. His brow rose, though Alexander said little as he watched Frost extend those wings of his own command, purposefully shifting them several times before, abruptly, pulling them back inwards in what the Dark Hunter knew to be a result of that lingering pain.
A soft breath left the Greek's lips before Alexander insisted he was ready for the transferral of the wound, the Hunter bracing himself for the pain he expected to follow. It came, admittedly, far faster than he anticipated, his jaw tensing as his shoulder was torn apart, his own supernatural healing quickly jumping into action to at least subdue any bleeding that might have begun. The Dark Hunter winced, that frown once again making an appearance upon his features though as he gingerly shifted the joint, checking his own range of motion. The gentle press of Frost's muzzle against his shoulder prompted a soft hiss from the King's lips, his own hand reaching up to gingerly brush the steed's forehead. "It's fine, Frost. I'll be fine." He murmured in some effort to reassure the stallion. That nearly affectionate gesture, however, was altogether short lived before Frost withdrew his head and Alexander, in turn, let his uninjured arm fall to his side. He watched in silence as Frost took several steps backwards, those wings now spreading to their full length with remarkable ease. It was...magnificent to behold, even if the ancient Monarch had little intention of admitting it.

The oceanic hue of his irises watched as those wings twitched slightly, his stallion clearly working on getting a feel for them before, suddenly, he managed a single powerful flap. He watched as the steed rose upon his hind legs, those wings once again flapping mid rear only to send a forceful gust of air towards the Dark Hunter - his raincoat crinkling loudly as his hair was sent in every which direction, that in itself a near feat given how those golden locks had begun to stick to his face from the rain. An entirely unimpressed look crossed the Hunter's features, though he hardly made an effort to scold the stallion either. That apology, however, was afforded a significant step backwards, the Dark Hunter placing his back against the canyon wall to afford Frost as much space as possible in that narrow valley. He remained a silent bystander as Frost pivoted, trotting towards the end of the valley. Though Alexander understood, at least, in theory, how that power worked, it hardly gave him insight on the best way to assist Frost in becoming airborne. This was an ability that would take time, dedication, and careful scrutiny to truly master - though they hardly had the luxury of this. Instead, Alexander was left to those careful, astute observations as Frost let instincts take over. The stallion barreled down the makeshift runway and towards the Dark Hunter himself, those wings flapping with all their strength. Quite at the last moment, the Draft managed to achieve that beautifully controlled flight, the steed soaring over head and far above the valley till he was a mere speck in the sky.

He watched as that barely perceptive dot drifted amongst the dark clouds of the sky above, drifting this way and that in a manner more akin to a seagull than a winged horse. Frost, it seemed, had discovered how to maneuver with those wings. The small figure of his horse began to drift ever lower, the steed's silhouette eventually becoming discernable as he attempted to re-enter the valley with far more speed then necessary. He winced at the very sight of Frost's hooves struggling to keep up with the flapping of his wings, the stallion crashing into the ground rather than the graceful landing either of the men had hoped for. That once pristine white coat had become sullen with mud, the stallion's legs splaying out around him in his fall and yet....most importantly of all, was that Frost was, indeed, fine. A soft breath of relief left his lips as the steed rose to his feet, shaking off the water much akin to a dog. "Throw your weight back when you want to slow down...like rearing midair." Alexander voiced as he stepped away from the edge of the valley wall. He crossed over towards Frost's good side, his good arm reaching up for the saddle as he waited for that leg he knew was coming.

His foot easily stepped on Frost's hoove, utilizing his strength to lift him upwards and throw one leg over the steed's back. "Remember Frost, I only have one good arm right now so try not to do anything too....jarring." He reminded the stallion, entirely doubtful of his ability to hold on if it truly came down to it. Still, Alexander found himself putting his trust entirely within his chosen warhorse. It would be up to Frost to get them out of this mess....and hopefully with Alexander still seated at the end of it.