Bellona
To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins.

The floating island is no longer so foreign to the bird that patrols it, but what it is that she is looking for is a subject well-suited to that title. Stained wings slice lazily through the air as flaming orbs survey the unnatural isle just as dully. It is almost as if the beauty is waiting for something exciting to happen, for something among the quiet groves of trees to stir. Not even those who mill about the sandy arena appear to be upset with this lack of excitement. It is true that are some of those gathered here are too soaked in sweat -- or even just too busy with the task at hand -- to care. All that is matters is that it is bothering her, and she needs to do something about that. Planting her dark hooves in the sand below her seems like a good idea for now.

She sweeps her gaze across the ring as she lands, making certain to take in the sights and sounds of the warring bodies around her. Their stench is perhaps more noticeable to the Chieftess as she scans the crowd, but it does not deter her from finding an opponent; if anything, it helps. The maiden's thought turn dark as she moves towards the strongest source of the smell. So the drunk has come to practice, has he? I wonder if there is anything in that bottle that might actually help him improve.

A foreign thought creeps into her mind, one of the jewelled warrior teaching this brute a lesson. It is one that she has considered in her solitude, but never when the pup was near. Just as the sky releases a light shower of rain, a blue ear cocks back to the boy to show her appreciation. Perhaps you are not so useless, mictla. But I cannot allow you to join in this fight. Jump down from my wither, and run to the edge. There is slight hesitation in the rougarou's movements, but a swift thrash of her wings sends him tumbling to the ground. I told you to go. Now listen!

The flames behind her eyes ignite as they watch his spotted form leave, unimpressed with his disobedience. Yet even so, the rainbow warrior trusts the hyena enough to get himself to safety. You may watch me, mictla, so that you may learn. Do not take my refusal so harshly. You will have your turn one day. Redirecting her blazing pits to the unicorn's stout form, the peahen calls out to him, "I see you have no partner. I can fix that." She calculates the distance between them as they stand -- which is roughly six of her strides -- and emits a bloodcurdling scream as she sets off at a gallop. Should the drunkard be feeling a little tipsy today -- and should the bird be lucky -- the bearded man will hopefully be standing relatively close to where she first spotted him. A wicked smile erupts on her maw at the thought of the Legatus still standing there. Swaying, more like it.

The charging warrior doubts that this will be the case, however, and so in an attempt to gain any sort of an advantage over him she reaches towards him with her wings. Aiming to either blind the brute or smack him upside her head, the flailing bird advances on him with her hindquarters preparing for take-off. Flight is not her goal in such a maneuver, however, so instead of departing from the sand entirely she lifts only her front-most hooves. Barred legs aim to strike against a spotted chest or broad shoulder while wide eyes search for the next available target. Perhaps the prospect of battle has excited the bird past her own control, but the ferocious vixen has dealt with this fervor before. Even as her body shifts to set itself up for a second attack her mind is committed to the current one. Do not get ahead of yourself. Your haste will only bring your downfall.

The comment is meant mostly for herself, but the information reaches the pouting cub as well. Rounded ears flick skywards as they receive the beauty’s advice, and a gangly body spins around to witness her charge. His interest in the big equine’s battle is put to shame by his concern for the peahen, and a low whimper sounds from his spotted gullet. The warring vixen picks up on his anxiety, and she responds to the boy with annoyance. That is no way to act when at war with another. Worry less for me and more for this idiot! It his blood that will be shed today!

Even so, and amidst all the rain, the timid boy stills sends her a burst of encouragement.

"Talk talk talk."

{WC: 800|Attack: 1/3|Defense: 0/1

In the sandy ring in the center. It's raining! Regular time limit, please. Three posts each. Thanks Silk!}