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

Just when the warrior thought that she had everything under control, yet another unnatural beast joined them in the dark -- although this one was more like a horse than anything else here. Annoyed that her senses were reacting so poorly to the thick veil of night around them, the bird snapped her feathers open again, warning those nearest to her that she was prepared to strike. Unblinking yellow eyes remained locked onto the wolf’s orange ones, and the only sign of recognition that she gave to the lavender mare was a loud snort. Her neck was arched and bulging with muscle, and only when a passing gale tossed her hair into her eyes did she break her statuesque position. Flickering blue ears take in everything that passes between the ’knight’ and the ’damsel’, and a tinge of envy erupts deep inside the Aztec’s colorful chest. Unlike Osiris, who has a comrade to aid him in fending off strangers, she has no one, and must remain vigilant in her defense. But, if the tiger and the purple lady trust the charcoal brute, than should she not take what information she can from them, and adapt to the shift in this situation? The hybrid has only known the laws that were placed years before her conception – the laws that she had reinforced herself with the shedding of her blood – and she was lost without them now that she had left her home behind.

Although she is resistant to change, adaptation is not a foreign concept to the tribal maiden, and so she lets her guard down and allows her peeping eyes to lay flat on her back. The pegasus tosses more than shifts her piercing gaze to land on the newcomer’s dainty form when she finally breaks away from the wolfboy’s furry face. Bellona raises her head in contempt at the sight of the unicorn; although she couldn’t care less about appearance, she knows that her own vibrant architecture outshines this mare’s barred pelt. She does not appreciate the look of sympathy that the dame smears across her face, but a subtle compliment falls past her lips soon after the warrior tenses to react, so the bird decides to forgive her instead. After all, she was the only one here who hadn’t insulted the goddess with fumbling feet or a patronizing tone.

“You have the first part right, cuauhcihuatl. I do not think that I am the one causing any harm here.” A dark hoof lifts from the solid ground to swing towards the striped stallion, who has recently decided to contribute to the conversation again, and she informs their new arrival in a dark tone, “This one here is giving me a head ache. He claims that I am a ’pea-cock’. But in Arto, we all looked like this, in some way or another.”

Pain ignites inside her, causing the mare to flinch, but it is snuffed out as quickly as it had come. The tribeswoman had not thought of her slaughtered family since the time of the Fatal War; when she had abandoned the land that had become overrun by the blood of her people. The memory has not been given time to heal yet, and thinking of it now is only picking at the wound. Although she does not ever want to forget the day that her tribe forced her to leave them, the chieftain’s daughter knows that it is not time to fuel that fire. She will save those tattered memories for later, for times when she is lacking the strength to deliver a blow, or lacking the courage to bear the weight of a promise that she made so long ago. Your blood will not be shed in vain.

Amused by the little black dragon, the feathered beast lets her guard down completely, and her white-branded nose stretches out towards the wolf again. His master might set her on edge, but the humorous way in which the little creature hitches a ride is enough to bring a small smile to the Azteca’s blue lips. “Your loyal companion?” Pale eyes tear away from the grinning dragon, and the delight that had crept its way into them is cast out as if it were a despised pest. Comadre was a joyous specimen – unlike the baleful tiger that had come with Yseulte – but his steed was something that the bird must stay weary of, regardless of his sarcastic timbre. She did not know of his intent. “The little one here appears to be the ringleader. Or do you ride him, too?” It was weakness to allow some of her delight to get past her guarded wall, but it had happened anyway. Would any of those gathered here pick up on her jesting tone?

“Perhaps you are not daft, Osiris. I probably am the more formidable foe.” What the hell did she think she was doing? She wasn’t supposed to be tossing her own sarcastic comments around! What happened to the snide Bellona, the dangerous one? Oh, but she’s still there. Her words may have gone soft, but her mind surely hadn’t. It was still as sharp a weapon as each of her hooves, and she was more than ready to use it. "A warrior," she snaps at the orange stallion, annoyed by his ignorance. "I am a cuauhtli; that means warrior."

The darkness might obscure her vision, but it had no effect on her attentive ears. It was the second time that the word was mentioned, the Grey, and curiosity – as well as suspicion, for the tiger horse was also inquiring about it, too – filled the pegasus’ hollow bones. It sounded interesting enough to the battle-lusting vixen, and she found that her wings had grown weary from endless days of flight. Perhaps it was time that she settle down somewhere, if only to feel the comfort that rest would offer her for a short while.

“What is this group you speak of?”


"Talk talk talk."

{OOC: cuauhcihuatl -- mature woman; valiant woman; brave woman

New Posting Order: Bellona, @[Yseulte], @[Osiris], @[Tingal]; unless anyone disagrees? I just went with the order of posts since the initial poster (Bellona) and the last member (Tingal) replied.}