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While Phaedra glistened like a star, she certainly did not feel like one. There were a few days, that she wished she could slip into non-existence, to dive and hide in the shadows. In these later days as Chieftess, the golden-girl truly understood the full weight of the words Ophelia spoke as she left - and the wisdom that Phaedra had been too blind to see, the day she 'captured' her former pale leader. New faces arrived daily, and of those, Phaedra constantly wondered if any would betray them, as Confutatis had. She cared little about their wandering gazes and obvious looks of contempt at her dazzling array of beauty - Phaedra was not quite so callous that she could be wounded by jealousy or dissent at how she had attained her title. What she did care for, likely more than most would guess, was this herd. It was a passing of the torch - given to her long, long ago, by Ophelia. Ophelia who had found her in the Threshold, and taken her in. Who had welcomed her into the Grey and given her a title and a job. It was she who gifted her the magic that allowed the once-spy to walk silently, and it was Ophelia's rank that she now held. But all was not well.
The Foothills it seemed, stood for nothing. And the sooty-spy worried that it would fall at any moment.
Sighing deeply, the spy glided through the air easily, allowing the warm Tallsun air-currents to gently decide her direction. At her side, Stella trilled brightly, her orangey-yellow face beaming with pleasure at flying with her bonded. Phaedra smiled and nodded to her companion, gently allowing her thoughts of grief and doubt to waft away on the breeze. She soared with radiant brilliance, like a falling star, shining bright in the light of day.
Down below, her sea-green gaze fell upon Locket - a warrior who had lived her far longer than She. Amused, she coasted lower, allowing her lithe form to twist nimbly in the air, until her long and lean legs finally touched down upon the ground. Tossing her crown breathlessly, Phaedra allowed her creamy forelock to tangle in an elegant way down her muzzle, as she advanced towards the warrior. "Hey there sugar" She called to him joyfully, her voice a pleasant mixture of flirtatiousness and melody. In the sky, Stella continued to circle, enjoying being in flight.
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HP: 45.5
