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06-22-2014, 10:37 PM
 Flicking her lime-stained tail in annoyance at the approach of the wisp, Bellona churns the air at her sides in an attempt to send it back from whence it came. Its performance is undoubtedly impressive, but it does not give the creature any right to try and make friends. The maiden is not fond of being coddled, and especially by something that is so foreign to her. Boldly colored ears are swept back to lay across a sapphire crown, and the vixen fans out the exuberant array of feathers at her wither in a warning. As her powerful instruments resettle themselves at her ribs, the peahen snaps, "You may look, but you cannot touch." Remembering that there was a horned (or perhaps horny?) beast in their midst she adds silently, and the same goes for you.
Once she has made her point clear to the shape-shifting ghast, Bellona returns her attentive gaze to the shire. Resettling herself so that she is no longer in such a foreboding stance, she lets her ears roll forward and reduces the tension in her legs. Her orange pools range over the unicorn's dark hide, noticing his many scars and the rippling muscles beneath it. He might appear to be imbecilic now, but the tone of his body hints at his true nature. The peahen suspects that he might be embracing the same philosophy that she follows; looks can be deceiving. "What brings you and your nothing here, then?" The bird resists the temptation to add the crude name she has bestowed upon him. She seeks answers from the stallion, and she has come to realize that treating her company with disrespect and a snide attitude will not aid her in search. Images of the wolf boy fill her cranium, and before waiting for the giant to answer her next questions is already spilling out into the air. "Have you heard of a stallion who goes by Osiris?" She gives a slight pause, watching Oxy for a reaction that might indicate that he has, in fact, located the wolf. Impatience gets the best of her, however, and her next words are tainted with an urgency that she would rather wish to hide. "The Windtossed Foothills? Does that ring a bell?" So much for being polite. "Sed interdum rutrum urna, sed pellentesque sapien tempor in." BellonA
breathing life into battered bones
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