Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ire was in a bad mood. A grouchy, grumpy, pissed-off at the world sort of bad mood that was exceptionally infuriating in that it didn't seem to want to become anything significant, content to exist as a bad mood that annoyed the hell out of the lucky party experiencing it. If it felt like becoming a rampage, that might almost have been better; as it was, the bad mood clung on stubbornly, like a sniffle that couldn't be shaken.

Then again, Ire was often in a bad mood these days. His countenance was perpetually marked by narrowed eyes and a set jaw, a fierce stride and an occasional scowl. One only had to look at him to tell that he was not the sort of kalona that would stop and exchange pleasantries...or exchange pleasantries at all.

That was the one positive element of his bad mood. Ire felt himself to be suitably serious at the best of times, but there was something about a pissed-off kalona that seemed to actually keep the Others at bay. The foolish, annoying Others who seemed to feel they had to the right to approach him. Him! He, Ire, Son of Anevay! The presumption of the Others would be laughable, if it weren't so mortally insulting; it took all of Ire's self-control to refrain from lashing out and ripping the offending creatures to shreds right then and there. It would have been a far worthier end than the lives that would have preceded it, after all...but for all the satisfaction, none of them were worthy of the honor and it would have sullied his own worth to indulge in the exercise.

He was a kalona: fierce, proud, strong. From the tips of his horns to the end of his tail, every centimeter of his body was toned and primed into the ultimate fighting machine. His life was full of training, of fighting, of constant effort to prove his own worth and, by extension, that of his race. He did not stoop to fraternize with Others, not even to kill them when they richly deserved it.

Well, barring extenuating circumstances.

He had been tempted to consider current circumstances as extenuating recently, but had managed to keep his temper in check. That had been lucky for the pert mare that had provoked him, but had had the direct result of pissing him off, which is why he was now stalking through the trees with a very irate gaze.

He had certainly been named well...

Some Soquilis had the bad habit of allowing their emotions or thoughts to dull their sense. This habit was exceptionally bad when the Soquilis so afflicted frequented dangerous areas or were of a species/race that made them exceptionally vulnerable to attack. Kalona themselves were included in that category; as far as Ire was concerned, kalona were the most susceptible to attack of any race, given their naturally war-like bent and the danger the other races always assumed they posed. He liked to think that danger was assumed correctly...

Regardless, Ire himself was not one to let himself get distracted by his own temperament. Good thing, too; with as cranky as he'd been lately, he likely would have been dead already if he allowed himself the luxury of lowered attention. But he wasn't, and he didn't plan to become dead in the near future.

Consequently, he heard the Sound. It was a very small sound, barely a rustle, but it was noticeable in the calm forest for being a rustle caused by a creature, not the breeze. Something was moving out there. It could have been a mouse or some other small creature scurrying along, but he doubted it. It had been a single rustle, so either the rustler had stopped moving or had been moving away from him and was now out of earshot.

Well, there was one way to know from sure.

Coming to a halt, Ire looked around himself with narrowed, alert eyes. Seeing nothing, he promptly lashed out with one back hoof, kicking solidly into the middle of the tree behind him and cracking it with a resounding CRASH.

That ought to do something.

At the mare's appearance, Ire allowed himself a brief smile of satisfaction. He had been correct, there had been another there, and, even better, it was another kalona. He had hoped such was the case; given the extreme care of the rustler in not being heard, it had seemed almost a certainty that the rustler was another either predator or a skittish prey creature, such as a deer, that used freezing to keep safe. The third possibility, that it was a mouse or something rushing off through the undergrowth, was less fun...but the kick had served its purpose, as he knew it would.

Though he had to snort at the mare's question. "No. Were that kick to have been aimed at you, I would have had to have allowed you to get close enough to me without knowing you were there. Such carelessness has no excuse, ever."

As he spoke, Ire was looking the mare over with a sharp, cold gaze, looking for any signs of breed bastardy. The last Kalona he'd met had actually been a halfbreed, which was appalling, but the fellow had almost been redeemable, and would be, as long as he never bred and spread his b*****d genes onward. But he'd been a good fight.

The mare appeared to be fully kalona, at least. Good. He could use some cheering up. "Though you could say it was aimed at flushing you out."

That he had succeeded at his aim was so incredibly obvious that it was pointless to comment on it, and Ire had never been one for indulging in pointless conversation. Or conversation at all, for that matter. Since his childhood, speech had been intended only to set things up; to suss out sparring partners and rile them up sufficiently (and learn to avoid being riled up in turn). Small talk of any sort was a waste of time, energy, and breath, as far as he was concerned.

This outlook made him a less than ideal conversationalist, his replies tending towards the terse even when speaking to his fellow kalonas, a fact that the mare would be finding out sooner rather than later. "No."

Hunting right now would be counterproductive; while the violence would undoubtedly pull him out of any funk he was in, hunting while angry dulled the senses and destroyed the finesse. He prided himself on his control of his temper, and part of that control came in the form of his strict rules: specifically, no hunting while angry.

Whether the mare was pleased or annoyed with him was of little consequence to Ire; it wasn't his business to be chatty and friendly, and it wasn't his business to read the bizarre signals of females. His mother had never been the type to play games, and she had imparted her own directness on her offspring with varying results. In Ire's case, he simply took things as they were presented to him, only bothering to try and find out 'the deeper meaning' if there was a practical reason or benefit in going the extra mile. Indeed, there were times when drawing others into carefully guided conversation could be both beneficial and stimulating.

However, Ire was a stallion of very strong focuses and purposes. There was a time for speech training, and their was a time for strength training. Flexibility was all well and good, but discipline came with adherence to schedules and plans. He might be willing to change things up for a fight, but that was about it.

Consequently, his replies remained terse. "Training. Or rather, preparing for training. I was unfortunately sidetracked this morning, and as a consequence I am behindhoof."

"Yes." If brevity was the soul of wit, then Ire was the sharpest tack in the toolbox for miles around! After all, why waste time with extras that weren't needed? But being that he was currently speaking to a fellow kalona, he did allow a few brief additional words of explanation. "A mare of the lesser variety, who had little regard for her own inferiority and, consequently, personal safety. It was fortunate for her that it was I she encountered and not another more aggressive kalona, or it would have been more than a mere problem for her." That was all he was willing to say on the subject, and for him it was quite chatty. The actual facts of the matter were that the mare in question had been particularly tenacious, and minutes away from prompting Ire to abandon his usual practice of non-violence towards the inferior races. There was something to be said for keeping his hooves pure of the blood of the unworthy; there was also something to be said for preventing the blood of the lesser from becoming anymore diluted with idiocy!

Fortunately for both of them, he'd finally managed to extract himself from the situation, his honor and her body intact. But the experience had annoyed him exceedingly, both for the hassle it had proved and the audacity of the mare in question. It was no wonder that most of his kind liked to eradicate lessers on sight; such foolish creatures were obviously asking for it!

But rather than provoke his own irritation once more, he allowed the thoughts to drop from his mind. An important part of his hunter's training had been to control his temper (a tall order, with his bloodline), and that went for his own thoughts as well as the taunting of his opponents. Anger blinded you; cold logic kept you on top.

And cold logic kept your life simple and straightforward, which was as he preferred. "Both, as hunting itself can be deemed as a lesson for fighting. Ultimately, fighting."

"I try to have self control in all things." Now it was Ire's turn to be surprised, although his impassive countenance and level voice belied that surprise. That the mare was questioning him was nothing short of odd; the only logical inferences were that she either did not feel that kalonas were capable of such composure, or that she doubted he, in particular, was capable of such a thing. Both inferences he found flawed, and either seemed out of keeping with what he had been taught and grown to expect as the kalona norm. To be sure, he had met other kalonas that did NOT harness their tempers, but that didn't mean that they weren't trying. Passions like rage and anger made one's fighting sloppy; sloppy fighting could be fatal.

That she might be referring to his self-control in not killing the mare didn't even occur to him; ever since he had been a foal, he had been taught the value of clean, worthy combat. Killing a lesser brought him no glory and an insubstantial meal that he refused to partake in, anyway!

"When hunting, the type of prey determines the mode of kill. There is no reason to draw out what can be a quick kill if there is no instruction or benefit to using more complex tactics. But there is likewise no reason to waste the chance to hone one's skills. It would be too easy to be a 'one trick pony', and then if in mortal combat at the mercy of one's opponent."

And Ire, son of Anevay and Incubus, would NEVER bring such shame on his family, to say nothing of his race!