breaking the pure wings of our angels.
Living here agreed with her. The rugged mountain peaks in their cloaks of snow, the patchwork of black crags sticking out of white covers and the cool wind rushing off their slopes to keep her body cold — she had come south with Mauja few times, but the sun had been harsh and the shadows too warm, the breeze tepid at best and nonexistent at worst. She did not like the south. The tall grasses made it hard to hear prey over the rustle of blades, and she had trouble seeing into their depths. It was better here, were the slopes were home to lemming and rabbits and hares, their small bodies scuttling along the rocks and low, hardy vegetation. Her pristine white body was well-masked against the backdrop, just another portion of white-and-dark against the imposing mountain range. The fact that the sun struck metallic blue highlights along her barring was lost upon the rodents' eyes at such a distance, and to any stranger who saw her spiraling lazy upon the thermals she was just another arctic bird of prey — wild, untamed, masterless. And as she circled in the sky, it was impossible to tell that her icy eyes were the mirror of Mauja's.

She was hunting, mostly out of boredom than hunger. Mauja was further away in the Basin, towards the western edge, and he seemed quite content today, with no intention to take an adventurous stroll someplace else. Part of her was frustrated, because the Basin had been very quiet, and it was boring, but some small part of her stone heart was glad for him, that the past few days had been easy, relaxing.. Cutting his ties with the Gods had been tumultuous for him, even if neither of them understood why, and she was glad he'd found some peace of mind again. She always kept an eye and ear open, waiting for someone to step out of line, but so far, no one had. Hunger had claimed her and she'd satisfied its urges with a lemming, but as she had nothing better to do, up she went again, circling. She had room for one more, though if she kept eating each time she was bored — well, she had to watch it. She didn't want to become too fat to fly.

Sunlight glinted off her blue barring as she dived.

Sharp talons pierced squirming flesh, warm blood oozing out across her feathery foot, the shrill cry of the lemming echoing among the rocks before it died, Irma's claws embedded deep in its body. Her face was impassive, but her soul pleased, and with it clutched firmly in her talons she took off, alighting upon a smooth, dark rock nearby. She intended to enjoy the meal in guilty pleasure, warmed by the sun, perched on a slope where she could see what happened, and her sharp beak had pecked loose a piece of fur and flesh to swallow when the Pegasus flew in. Immediately, Irma's keen eyes snapped to her form, her entire head swiveling to track its passage as it crashed down to earth at the mouth of their land; a wave of blue electricity struck out from her, and though she remained quiet and motionless, Irma blinked in surprise. Streaks of vivid blue traveled along the bond, Mauja's head rising from the grass somewhere quite far away, annoyance running off his body in waves as the sun seemed to loose its warmth. So much for his peaceful time, but Irma soothed him, saying that Crowley was near. He did not need to hurry, it was in control.

She deemed herself too far away though. Reluctant to give up her prize she kept its bloodied corpse in one foot as her broad white wings unfurled, and she claimed the sky as hers once more. The mare was short, black and blue, her head high and eyes wary; Irma circled her once, listening to Crowley demanded she state her reasons (phrased nicely, but Irma knew that the striped stallion wasn't nice) and telling his curious pup to not approach. The dog sank down in a sit, and whined, and Irma caught a whiff of his hunger. Passing them again, she thought of the meal trapped in her foot, and the fact that she did not need it. Giving no call, she swept lower, her claws opening and the dead lemming falling to the ground in front of Talbot. Small it might be, but it was what she hunted, the only thing she had to offer, and more so out of guilt than pity. Wheeling in the air Irma rose up, easier now that she bore only herself (it would've been only marginally easier to rise rapidly with it in her belly, she thought to herself) and headed for a nearby rock where she settled, her cold gaze fixed on Ampere as she waited.

[ Mauja will be coming, but I thought it could be fun to just observe Crowley and Ampere before he makes it there. >:3 ]