Air shuddering, each stroke of her wings placed primaries at an intimate proximity as they fluttered above brook’s bubbling skin. Godiva had allowed herself a mild bliss; a hooves’ leading tip teased the water by combing idly across the shifting surface, the narrow spray that arose in her wake both as white and fine as a bride’s long trail of lace. After hours of leisurely flight, she had ventured farther from the desert than the norm, and was resigned to the thought that it was time to return to the blistering sands and winds of her new residence; this tranquil place would remain for a future visit, and with the matter decided, she was carried aloft with a continuation of powerful beats, preparing to wheel away.

Ah, but what was that?

So familiar with the security of the skies, she had let her gaze become shamelefully lazy in it’s search for noteworthy features, but now eagle eyes saw a stroke of white, a shade quite deviant from the tranquil green of the field. Noticed only in the corner of an eye whilst racing past, the mare suddenly peeled away from her ascent, done such a slant that the angle of her body was nearly inverted, head arcing gracefully as her head led the entirety of her body to double back – flexible, nigh on grotesque in the contortion as she executed a nimble pirouette. Her hair billowed wildly, a crown all of silk and rosy gossamer curls her corona as she coasted, briefly circling like a vulture while indulging in a mild examination of the creature down below.

It was not an overwhelmingly intriguing thing, appearing from her height much as a crumpled leaf, collapsed upon itself, bleached by wear and age. She was hardly satisfied with the minimal features that could be seen at a distance though, and ivory legs gradually extended earthward in the streamlined precision of a swan dive. From a narrow, whistling arrow, wings suddenly flared wide as though a great yawning parachute; the skydancer descended with breast bared like the prow of a ship rocking back to break the waves, wings at their limit to embrace the cushion of air, permitting it to slow her descent in those final, crucial moments before contact was made with the waters below. Ivory hooves skipped weightlessly across the surface of the water once – and then, as if with a release of suspended breath, she fully punctured the shallows a few yards from the others, now two standing before her.

With a snort, the tall lady landed amidst the wildly blossoming petals of white foam - her wings pumping simultaneously as a short trot absorbed what little momentum remained from the fall, the limbs gradually stilling, poised above the spray to arc upon the extravagant curvature of her back. The strangers were approached unhurriedly, slender limbs moving in a stretched, catlike stride and easing the mare nearer at mindful pace – eyes observing, nostrils stealing the colorless maiden’s scent, and letting hers be processed as well. The first, with her snowcapped back and feathering resembled her sister, but the horn spoke of a different lineage, and other carried the arid perfume of the desert…her kinsmen? Pheonix had warned of unicorns, perhaps now she could test his word, not knowing whether their threat was isolated or extended from all.

To both - a greeting fell without inflection from moist charcoal lips; it was a mere formality, and lacked the carefully crafted inflection adopted when speaking matters of depth. “Hāl wes þū.” She tossed her head back both in greeting and of necessity, hair tossed from where it had skewed her vision; the sheer bounty of rosewood locks was hardly tamed, but a wing remained partially outspread, catching the strands and holding silken locks from spilling into the water. Godiva was not cold – though failing to warm the sculptured marble of her face, there was some plaintive compassion in her eyes as they fell upon the lovely, damaged dove, a stranger true, but fellow to her no less. It was of no effort or cost to let the wing remain outstretched; she sought to provide shade, and willingly let the youth enjoy her shade.

Angling a single chiseled cheek, her vibrant eye took in the desert dwellers ruined features, her own remaining uncontorted by disgust or surprise, and instead, fairly neutral beyond the warm gloss in ruby vision. She sought to understand first before judging. “I am Godiva, a comrade - worry not.” Again, formality, though the colorless mechanization of her tone was a bit less so with the introduction. “Yes, what has happened?” She inquired in a calm murmur, though words were tinged not with compassion, but moderately darken and subdued by thought.

Such grievous offense had been dealt to this one, what she guessed was once fine white flesh was now ruined. Had she angered Sol, or perhaps one of those with his blessed powers? It was the only reasonable assumption; the winged could fly from earthly fires, it was the magical to be avoided, and few equines received that level of injury through innocent clumsiness.

She swayed, muscle dimpled rump swinging to the side and pulling heavy curls behind it, whilst dainty pasterns crossed as the other delivered her greeting. Now facing the unicorn and other pegasus equally, face soft with patient expectation, her heavy head dipped in the mildest of greetings, recognition, acceptance, and unemphasized remembrance of the names. The narrow shadow her lifted wing had brought into being remained, the perch for her mane's spill of clouded violet still suspended without thought or effort, even as postured shifted and head moved in the familiar actions of greeting.

As the taller mare quieted, Godiva's eyes gradually lowered to the fallen lady of white, interest sparking in the tranquil depths of glossy eye, but oh how that vision narrowed with the explanation. Lids already heavied by long lashed curtains of lilac, protection from many a desert storm, drew low, the mystic's eyes sharpening with disapproval. "Hmm." Charcoal lips tightened as she drawled the predatory sound. She knew only one culture thus far, and though The Dragon's Throat had barely been her home for a month, such actions registered only as an act of war from whence she had come. Her tail's base flicked upwards, damp tendrils raised from where they lapped at the shore, the limb flicking against her haunches in a catlike display of displeasure.

The disapproval remained muted however, for the other's frustration out shined her own. Eyes widened briefly from rosy slivers, hard angles of disgust softened as her ears flattened with surprise reserved for the other's reaction, cartilage pinned, too with the sudden ignition of vengeance and fervor still fresh in her system. She wondered briefly what motivated the other to such loyalty to a stranger, but did not question an anger so in sync with her own. "Such and act often spreads ripples of war." Her tone was still soft and musing, with it's modest lilts of interest and observation, somewhat concerned, but without the sharp edge of anger, the mare's voice was on the verge of being unfittingly light. But ah, war - to this, she was no stranger. A gilt hoof rose and fell as emphasis, gouging a damp furrow into the soft soil of the bank.