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.