Her lips eagerly hit the water, her silvery eyes looking back at themselves in the distorted, magnified projection. It was rare that she saw her own reflection, and she didn't hesitate to study the lines of her face, the odd metallic-silver of her eyes, and the hulking masses at her sides (better known as wings, of course). She also did not fail to feel a pang of sadness as she slipped her lips back from the lake, and watched it drip carelessly from them and back into itself. Once something she had had complete control over, it was now nothing more than a luke-warm pool at her feet, there was no pull or desire for her from it anymore. It was life-giving, but to her, it was suddenly lifeless. Nothing more than a puddle.

It bothered her, and for a moment, she felt angry.

A rustle, a heavy breath.

Her eyes avert from the lake, and to the stallion that stood diagonally from here - nearly across, but not quite. Judging from the curious way he turned his head about before he lowered it to the waters edge, she assumed he must be new, too.

And since she was new, both in the Throat and in personality, she turns and walks over to him.

She halts when she is close, still standing diagonal to him. He is magnificent, and the glint in her eye is something she knows she cannot suppress.

Her left wing stretches out and over, nearly double the length of her own body, blocking the sun from his face as he picks through the grass near the lake's edge. She stood quietly beneath her wing, her hip cocked in a way that flexed the muscles in her side and hindquarter. She was so comfortably off-place next to it that it seemed as though something so broad and impressive could not possibly be attached to such a lithe body.

Her eyes run along the line of his jaw, over to his throat, and down his legs. And for a moment, she contemplates dragging the tips of her feathers over it -- all of it.

But she refrains.

"Hello," she says softly, her femininely-deep voice gentle and smooth like the sand all around them.

"I figured you could use the shade… Are you new?"

Ilacta *
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north,
no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.