Phaedra

All that glimmers

Phaedra didn't care. She didn't care that they called her names behind her back - accused her of sleeping her way to the top, and being unfit to lead. Regardless of the truth, their words simply slipped off of the golden girls' delicate shoulders. They could talk all they wanted, but it didn't change the facts. It didn't change that she had been the best spy that the Grey had had. The she had been sent into battle rather than that she-dog Archibald liked to keep around for when he got tired of beating up stallions in the battlefield, and wanted to beat on something else. She had taken Ophelia's place when the Foresaken abandoned them, and she rose to stand beside Apollo as Queen of the Foothills. What did it matter what happened next - that she had done a poor job of ruling, and had simply left them with things got too tough. She had made it there. So let them tell their jokes, to scoff behind her back. Had they bested the Moon Bitch's challenges, and received magic? Had they been gifted with the sparkle of the stars, from a creature made of light? No. So fuck you twice, sugar.

Even so, Phaedra really had no desire to go back. Was Lakota still in charge with Apollo? Was Ophelia still aimlessly wandering? Had Locket ever finished his quest? Maybe she would find out...or maybe she would find Soh instead. Well. But if she did that, surely her friend would ask about her children, and that was one past mistake she was not ready to deal with.

Walking softly amongst the flowers, the Opulent folded her oddly-patterns wings to her lithe flanks. Her mane and tail - a symphony of starlight and pale curls - bounced delicately against her sooty hide. Her sparkling sea-green gaze froze, as did her lean form, as she spied Rasta collapse into the grasses.

Dead? Inquired Stella from the air, her bright orangey-yellow face twisting in concern. Phaedra shrugged her spotted shoulders, as she turned to leave. "Not our problem Stella." She replied, her sing-song voice cold and distant, as she cast a sidelong glance towards the mare. From the air, Stella trilled unhappily, glaring down at her bonded. Phae...Maybe she needs help. Rolling her eyes, the Opulent looked back towards where Rasta still lay. Phaedra disliked mares - except for a handful. Well, maybe just two. She had liked Ophelia, until the Foresaken had abandoned them...though after having ruled in her place, Phaedra understood why she had done it.

Sighing, Phaedra turned on her pale hooves with a grimace. Fine, she mentally grumbled. Trilling happily now, Stella glided swiftly towards Rasta, as Phaedra followed on foot.

Her sea-green gaze washed over the emaciated form of the mare who carried a similar colour-palette and build to herself. She noted the sunken ribs and the teartracks down her cheek. Grimacing, she was reminded of the quest that the Moon-Bitch had sent her on, so many seasons ago. Her beauty was forcefully removed, and the golden girl was forced to carry and deliver her twins while being imprisoned in the body of an emaciated hag. It had been the worst season she could recall, and the state of Rasta was an all too sudden reminder of what that experience had been like.

"Did the Moon Goddess do that to you, sugar?" She cooed softly, warily stepping around Rasta lest this be some sort of trap. Stella landed on Phaedra's wither, careful not to dig her talons into her bondeds soft flesh. The bird cooed as well, expressing her own concern.

Phaedra

All that glimmers

Her eyes, thought Phaedra with a certain melancholy wonder. The golden girl was filled simultaneously with relief, and annoyance. Phaedra's dazzling appearance was one of the features that was most noteworthy, and one that was both her best offensive and defence against the troubles of this world. Her sooty coat adorned with odd and intriguing spots that lingered only on her shoulders, neck, and around her eyes. Her creamy mane and tail were filled with starlight, as if she had somehow captured the sparkle of the night sky, and wore it as a trinket. And yet all of this - from the sheen of her hooves to the dazzle of her eyes, were lost in the milky blindness that was Rasta's stare. And yet...Phaedra felt almost relieved. She had lost the ability to become invisible when she turned over the crown to Lakota, and the Opulent found that she enjoyed being invisible once again.

At the sound of Rasta's words, Phae's ears flickered. Was that self pity she heard, lacing those words? That was an emotion Phae rarely dabbled in, although she surely could give Rasta a run for her money, when it came to that department. My past? Awful. My only love? Disappeared. My children? They hate me - they've gone. My friends? Well, I haven't bothered to visit them. Where do I come from? Oh no where now - but I used to be somebody not so long ago... Oh yes, and like Rasta, she had done it all to herself. Even so, the Opulent failed to linger on her past mistakes; failed to bother correcting the flaws in herself that were likely the cause.

"You did sugar. Her name's Stella. She's a secretary bird, if you've seen one of those before-"

Realizing that she couldn't know for sure if Rasta had ever seen anything before, Phae coughed with embarrassment, swishing her tail. "You've got rather good hearing for -" a blind mare. Pinning her ears at having talked herself into this corner, Phae swished her tail once again, sighing lightly to herself. "-someone with one ear in the grass." Nice save.

Phaedra

All that glimmers

Phaedra suddenly was definitely regretting coming over to investigate. This mare seemed...wordy and worldy, in a way that made the golden girl feel inadequate and annoyed. Her disapproval poured over her dainty features, as she cast an impoverished glance towards Stella, knowing that Rasta couldn't see this unhappy display. The bird merely fluttered her wings delicately, as if shrugging nonchalantly. '

Phaedra turned her dished face back towards the mare who was still contentedly laying in the grass. Her star-bright coat glittered beautifully, as she waited to see if any more cryptic phrases would be sent her way. As they appeared to have stopped, Phaedra shifted her weight casually, as Stella mentally urged her to ask what had happened to the hawk. A far distant cousin of hers, the secretary bird was confused as to why the mare was speaking in past tense. Typically when such a bond was broken, both parties died. Both Phaedra and Stella were well aware of what that separation had the potential to feel like, and both shivered in tandem at the thought. It was still vivid in both of their minds - the childlike name-calling that had led to a full on spar between the golden and the shadowmere. How that darkened bitch had senselessly targeted Stella, sending the (then) younger-bird careening into the grass, white body broken and unmoving. Phaedra could still hear Stella's gentle voice, asking if she should go into the light, and the ensuing panic that had flooded her system so completely.

"What do you mean used to have? Where is the hawk now, sugar?" She purred; sing-song voice filled with well-practiced faux sympathy and interest. It was one of the many talents she had in her arsenal, practiced over her years on her own and on the run. And while Phaedra might not be that interested in the answer, Stella certainly was. The yellow-faced bird gently glided from Phaedra's wither, onto the grass about two feet from Rasta's nose. She trilled softly, head tilting back and forth curiously.

Phaedra

All that glimmers

Stella, raising a wing gently, reached it out to try and pat Rasta awkwardly on the shoulder. Although the secretary bird was large, with a lengthy wingspan, because she feared getting too close to the mare, she might have ended up brushing her leg instead. Still, it's the thought that counts. The bird trilled softly at the conclusion of Rasta's tale. Why don't you have a marking of me? The bird asked, half jokingly, have serious. Diverting her gaze to where her companion stood in the grass, Phaedra raised a skeptical brow. Because it's tacky. Besides. You aren't going anywhere, are you? Again, half joking, half serious.

Phaedra, not normally one to share her pain with others, also did not like to be out done by them.

"Before...When I lived in the Foothills, there was an Invasion. I was sent to fight, while one of our warriors was allowed to stay at home. I know you can't see sugar, but I'm not exactly built to fight. A few days after I returned, we...er..had it out, you might say. I don't think she liked my suggestion that our leader only let her stay at home, because she was his fuck buddy." Lost in her own thoughts, Phae suddenly realized the harshness of her words. She winced apologetically. "Sorry sugar. So we sparred. I guess she wanted to prove to me that she was more than just...just a toy. But she attacked Stella, who was much younger then. Nearly... For a moment her lip trembled and the words were caught in her throat. She could only see a ball of white feathers, hardly breathing, and an yellow face that wouldn't move. Rage boiled within her breast, and had Circe strolled through the meadow at that moment, Phaedra would likely have attacked her again.

Still, as reality rolled back through her mind, Phaedra regained composure. Stella, sensing her concern, had hopped into the air and glided to land upon Phae's golden wither, burrowing herself under her mane as she had done when she was a chick. "She nearly killed her. If our healer, Apollo hadn't been nearby, I don't think she would have made it." Steeling her resolve against the anger and anguish that still threatened to overtake her, Phae raised her chin. "So yes. I know the feeling. And I won't let anything ever make me feel that way again."

Pausing again, Phae's golden gaze softened considerably, as she looked down at the golden mare. "I am sorry for your loss, sugar. Do you think you'll ever find another? Is it even possible?"