Bellona
Beauty may be skin deep
But cruelty goes clear to the bone

It is the darkness of the forest that draws the resplendent maiden in. Shadows streak across her brilliant hide as she weaves around the earthen pillars. Disregarding the pain in each of her supports the peahen sets forth at a trot, determined to find the shaggy stallion and his creature and the offer he had made to her. She had been close -- so close -- to finding out where he was, but the babe that had approached her at the entrance had suddenly gone daft, and the hybrid's bargain had fallen upon deaf ears.

Tixolopitli. Imbecile.

Impatience has gotten the best of her, and her desire to find the wolf has grown ten fold since her failed interrogation with the arabian. At least he was a reasonable brute to deal with, albeit a strange one. The peahen could only conjure up positive memories of him, and of that sort she had many; he must have made quite the impression on her to have her seek him out so fervently.

Or is it the idea of contributing her own cultural influence on this world that beckons her so? Hasn't she sworn to live on for her tribe, so that she may always carry the burden of their sacrifice like a mountain upon her shoulders? Who else is there to ensure that their traditions go on, if not her? She is the last of an extinct species of beautiful warriors, and even if they do not walk alongside her now, she will never forget their memory.

The hybrid is so engulfed in her thoughts of home that she is not paying attention to where she is. Her subconscious takes note of a red substance ahead, but it isn't until her sombre hoof splashes into the water that the warrior is repelled from her mind. Snorting in surprise, she lowers her blue crown until her whiskers breach the surface. The water is playing a trick on her eyes, trying to convince her that the liquid itself is red, but something in the back of her mind tells her that this is an illusion. Memories of two rivers -- one of blood, the other of water -- threaten to ensnare her again, but she dispels them with a powerful snap of her wings.

Propelled by the gust of wind that she has created, the eerie water rises to slap at her muzzle and the uneven bank behind her, and the colorful bird turns her head so she can watch it. Contempt sparks in the maiden as the liquid quenches the earth's thirst, uncovering the illusion that the vast pool has tried to pull on her. Several blood-tinted crystals are trapped by the clumps of foliage that border the water, becoming stranded without any means of returning to their kind.

Her attention is diverted from the rocks when she detects movement on the opposite end of the basin. She fixates her amber stare on the stallion's painted form, and without hesitation the peahen turns on her heels and trots ashore. Working the exquisite instruments at her sides, she welcomes the familiar tug of sinew and muscle as she departs from the realm of the earth and enters that of the air. Many days have passed since the mare has last taken flight, but as she disturbs the forest air she finds that she does not regret her actions. After so many moons of weary travelling, her wings have begun to regain their usual vigour.

At the opposite shore the bird begins her rapid descent to reacquaint herself with the ground. The warrior stirs the air one last time to lessen the impact before planting a chocolate hoof in the dirt, and the rest of her dazzling body follows. Her eyes rake across the stranger's architecture once she has landed, and the first thing she notices are the stones in his mane. The bright feathers at her wither raise in curiosity when she speaks.

"Are those from the ezcocotli? The blood vessel?" She gestures towards the pool with an outstretched wing. Without so much as an introduction, the maiden is already being demanding."How did you do such a thing?"

"Talk talk talk."

@[Dragomir]