C
I
R
R
U
S

Breaths came hard and fast through the cloud's lungs, as she navigated the skies above her home. The belle did not have the abilities of her father, to enhance her vision or smell so that she might track the happenings from her lofty viewpoint, but still, the girl had spent so much time observing her home from above, she could gauge a fair idea of those who belonged and those who didn't. The reason for her heightened respiratory rate? She was merely exercising, keeping her body busy so that her mind could not focus upon the images of electric blue eyes (whose face she didn't want to define, for if she left it at the study of eyes then it could be numerous creatures that filled her past, and that was okay, because if she focussed on the face and found it was his she simply didn't know what she would do), dancing with the pale, puffy arches of the clouds that ranged the borders of her home.

The signal was not lost on her though, even with her attempted distraction. Levelling her flight out, the young warrioress was fit enough that the easy flight to the gathering gave her enough time to catch her breath again, though the sweat that darkened her ever-moving coat laid the evidence of her exercise on display for all to see. It didn't matter to the skymare - what kind of defender of their home would she be is she never broke a sweat?

She listened to most of the words said with mild disinterest, murmuring her congratulations along with the others when they were due, but otherwise she was indifferent to the changes - they didn't affect her directly, and while she was pleased to know her herd was growing, she was probably just a bit too tired to put the effort into really caring at the moment. Though she did smirk darkly at the news of Bucephalus stepping down from Chancellor - he was a twit, in her opinion. Better he put himself to use crafting metal than words.

It was when Gaucho spoke of the duties of the defenders that her ears perked up, her posture stiffened, her electric gaze fixed upon his. War; the very idea of it woke her nerves up, excited her. She didn't yearn for bloodshed, but neither did she turn it away when the opportunity arose. Descended from a great line of warlords and battle gurus, Cirrus could not help the way she suddenly felt lighter, almost jittery, wanting to immediately return to her border patrols so that she might not miss any of the action that would surely arrive there in the near future. But she remained, to see out the remainder of the meeting, eyes darting from her General to her Sultan with barely contained energy and willingness to pluck the spear out from its hidden spot amongst her feathers and drench it in an enemy's blood.
""