She had left a very dark place indeed. Whatever land she had come from seemed to only feel the effects of autumn and winter, with spring and fall blending together in a short, clipped mish-mash of greens and sometimes colours. Here, at least, the snow caps seemed to recede and the grasses were fresh and green, renewed and rebirthed. Tasty. Whatever allure the mountain tops had in the distance had obviously enticed the black mare to find a path that would lead her in their direction, and after nearly a day of jogging, Inara found her there.

Something has struck her as odd when she crossed the threshold of the land- a shiver ran down her spine and her skin tingled for a moment, like she had stepped across an electrical current and her hooves had only just kept her grounded. Oddly, that did not dissuade her, and even though her instincts told her to be on guard, she pressed onwards.

Ears pressed back towards her mane and dual coloured eyes darting back and forth, Inara pushed further into this strange new place until she spotted others, gathering almost ceremoniously through sparsely laid out trees and amongst grasses that were still rather delicious looking, despite their cloak of shadows. Pausing at the edge of what appeared to be a meeting ground, Inara scans the faces of the others here, sourly assessing their appearances and noting that there were other rather unique looking creatures here. While she had seen the winged sorts in other places, higher up in the mountains where the airflow was strong and they were closer to the sky, she was surprised that the rest were a great multitude of different varieties here.

Even the wingless and the hornless congregated here, sporting little more than colourful designs on their skins to set them apart.

Only slightly self conscious of the cracked and dead looking horn that protruded from her skull and twisted out to the left, the mare turns her blue eye to the others and watches, still suspicious of what sort of meeting ground she had stumbled upon.

Her discreet and ultimately quiet arrival at the edge of this strange meeting ground, though it had indeed been quiet and relatively unnoticed by the masses, had not gone completely ignored. While her pale eye skipped across the faces of the strangers, noting that there were many of the same species as herself, and just as many winged folks that seemed less interested in the horned kind, there were others that had eyes on her. She had noted that the unadorned appeared to mingle adversely, confusing Inara and forcing her attention to settle upon their plain backs with a sort of jealousy that they would never notice.

Momentarily focused on a particularly vibrantly coloured mare that flitted across the grasses, she heard little more than a rustle of leaves and feathers as the dappled mare approaches her, tucking one wing against her side as she did so. The other mare’s presence was enough to incite a scornful look from the dark mare, first accusing her soundlessly of interrupting her, then after a moment her gaze softens and she stares at the empty spot on the other mare’s shoulder where, she assumed, there used to be another wing that matched the one neatly tucked against the mare’s side.

There had always been moments in Inara’s life that she had been confronted by horses or other creatures that had been similarly crippled, and in those moments she had experienced a strange range of emotions. First, there was a burning curiosity to know how the other creature had come about losing whatever they had lost, or injuring whatever they had injured. Then, once she had mentally reminded herself of the sort of disaster that her curiosity had gotten her into long before those moments, she would realize that they would try to find common ground with her, and that perhaps she was to be accepted into a great group of cripples and freaks, because naturally, Inara was unnatural. Finally, she had decided that there was nothing wrong with the jagged edge on one of her horns that found it a good foot shorter than the other, and had made the decision to completely ignore the injury all together.

Inara liked to assume, in the faces of strangers, that there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary with her.

Staring headlong at the dappled mare, Inara notes how she makes a subtle observation of this place, giving it a name and introducing herself before they are joined by another, this time by a woman with hard eyes and a single, carefully spiraled horn that jutted out of her forehead. The newcomer, a dark mare with a gaze that seemed to pierce their skins and give a hint of her internally turned judgments. Gazing into the pale striped face of the dark mare, Inara listens and narrows her eyes as she too, makes a rather non-descript observation of the weather, and then introduces herself, this time adding what the crippled mare thought of as the name of the place she hailed of. “It looks like I’ve fallen into an oddly proper place.” Inara says in a smooth voice, adding that as her own unimportant observation, but deciding the side-step the introductions. That was not something she was accustomed to. “Where I grew up, I was told not to just hand my name out to strangers- dark magics can screw with you if you’re not careful.” She adds flippantly before turning her body, carefully angling herself towards them and stepping back so as to keep her personal space to herself.

Whatever customs she had grown up with and had been forced to run through her veins through birth seemed unimportant here. Whatever she had learnt seemed to lose focus and become unimportant, but she felt like a creature of habit now, being careful and suspicious of strangers and the unknown. As a child she had been taught to think differently, but it was amazing how the world can change the souls that float through it, and she had matured into a very changed woman.

Even with the gentle encouragement from the dappled mare, she thinks it best to withhold her name, assurances or not. As a child she had seen how names can be twisted and manipulated, how witches and sorcerers could adopt faces and weave curses or spells. Maybe this place was different, but a given name, in the superstitious eyes of the black mare, was the most powerful thing she had ever known. With her own name carefully tucked away into the back of her mind and the way she remembers her mother had said it when she last saw the scornful woman, Inara nods silently in acknowledgement to Africa’s words.

While the one-winged mare had seen the goodness and the loyalty in the hearts of those she stood beside, the mare with the broken horn was still a stranger to these creatures, and her apprehension, for now it seemed, was decided.

The other mare, as equally dark as herself, brought with her a sort of cloud that seemed to close up the dappled mare a little bit, and this receives Inara’s careful observation with narrowed eyes. She knows nothing of the sort of quarrels to be had between the lands of this place, and perhaps she didn’t really care to know, so for now she focuses on the dark skinned mare. “Not everyone we come across is interested in making friends, unfortunately.” She speaks with a soft voice, remembering the subtly careful stance between the two mares. “There are sometimes sinister beings in the world that ruin everything for the rest of us.” Just as her mother had ruined any chance of Inara becoming a trusting and trustworthy creature when she had turned her anger towards her after that fateful incident with a hungry predator.

With a soft sigh, Inara submits herself to the situation unfolding before her and became willing to acknowledge that both mares were here for a reason, and that it would be futile to keep beating around the bush. “I suppose this is a recruiting place of sorts, and you’ve both been tasked with bringing home more numbers. So what can the both of you offer me? It is an admittance of curiosity, to know just where these two very different creatures hailed from and just what it meant if she were to follow either of them home. Though her suspicions still linger in the back of her mind, and she thinks it unlikely that she will follow either of these mares home if she were to remain uninformed or in the dark.

ooc: Oh geez, I posted from the wrong account roflmao. Sorry!

The thought of having stumbled across a passageway of sorts was uncomfortable, and Inara felt as though she was intruding on some sort of ritual that she was not entirely keen on partaking in. She had been correct in assuming that both mares were interested in seeing her home with either one of them, and perhaps had started some quiet, internalized competition to see who the winner would be. Taking a moment to think, she was not bothered by either mares’ desire to convince her to return to either Dragon’s Throat or Aurora Basin, and she took a moment to consider both options.

It seemed that both herdlands were rich in their own kind of culture, with special rankings and celestial gifts bestowed upon them by, she supposed, were their own unique gods acting as figureheads or guides. While she considered the intimate details of both lands, she returned to one thought and one alone. Did she prefer the heat or the cold? Her home had been mild in climate, with winters that were not so brisk as to be threatening to one’s health, and the summers there had been warm, but never so hot as to be uncomfortable. Perhaps this is where she must make her decision.

Watching the black mare, she listens to her until she finishes speaking before deciding to weigh in. “It seems you both live in lands that are filled to the brim with their own… culture.” While she had not heard as much on the culture of the Aurora Basin, she had heard enough about Dragon’s Throat to see what they were two completely different lands with, she supposed, completely different ideals. “Though neither of you have told me much about what lies in either land that can benefit me, I find I’m not much of a fan of the cold.” She addresses the last part of her sentiment directly to Sialia, making eye contact for a few moments before carrying on.

While it did not bother her that there were only unicorns allowed to live within the borders of Aurora Basin, she did fear that she, perhaps, did not qualify as being a unicorn, and that the sorry state of her cracked and withered horn atop her left brow would be enough to make others apprehensive of her abilities. “Can I see both places before I make my decision?” Inara had always been a creature of action, and while there was a promise of a lack of prejudice in Dragon’s Throat (being that it seemed they welcomes the one-winged mare there with open enough arms to send her off recruiting others), there seemed little reason for her to want to become a culturally educated creature in the midst of a peaceful land. The dark mare is unapologetic of her decision to view both places before deciding where she would, she assumed, spend her forever, as she assumed both places would be much like her old home, where once integrated into the group she would be expected to stay for the long run and leaving was frowned upon and likely to make a few enemies.

She wanted little to do with the seemingly bitter relations that appeared to be suspended between the two terrains she was now divided between. While the histories of both lands were lost upon her, she did not miss the way the two mares vaguely described their homes, as if there was more to Dragon’s Throat and Aurora Basin than the sturdy ground that stood under the borders that made up the kingdoms. It seemed as though both women were reluctant to tell Inara just what she was to be getting herself into if she were to go with either herd.

She nods quietly in the direction of Africa when she agrees with her decision, thankful that the dappled mare seemed to accept the black mare’s decision to see more of what she was getting herself into, despite being careful enough to not give either mare her name. Turning her head towards Sialia, half expecting to be lead in the direction that Aurora Basin lay, she is instead greeted with an apprehensive sort of paranoia, and a look that she remembers best as the sort of look that had been painted across her mother’s face when she had offered to look over her sister for a few short hours when Inara had still been a part of that land.

Instead of offering reassurances of being loyal to a creature that she did not even know that well, she flips her dark ears backwards and narrows her eyes, feeling as though the mistrust that she, as a stranger to this land, had knowingly placed upon both mare’s equally, had been reflected back upon her. “If that was the case, then the both of you should be afraid that I could single handedly be the downfall of your righteous regimes.” Her tone is almost bitter, as if she did not understand why Sialia had come here in hopes of recruiting members to join her in her home if she was so worried that Inara might betray those in Aurora Basin. “If such paranoia is what spawns from your corner of this land, then I want no part in it.”

With that, she turns back to Africa, an irritated look still alight in her eyes as she speaks to the dappled mare in turn now. “I hope you would not take issue with me seeing Dragon’s Throat before deciding to stay there or not.” It seemed that she had resolved to decide between staying in Dragon’s Throat as a newcomer, or going about the land on her lonesome before thinking to tie herself to a land.