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

The dull roar of a summer storm can be heard from the east, but the threat of a distant enemy is not what forces the bird to land. She is at peace in the air, or at least more so than she ever has been on the ground. There are few who can share in the maiden's serene experience whilst aloft in the sky, and the beautiful lady is far too selfish to do anything but keep that serenity to herself. Flight serves as a bitter-sweet escape for the warrior; it is a place where she can allow memories of a long lost home take hold of her heart as cryptic thoughts ensnare her mind. The peahen has devoted her efforts to the task of locating Osiris and the Foothills, but there is something else -- perhaps just as important -- demanding to be noticed tonight. As much as she tries to, Bellona cannot repel the images of her fallen brothers and sisters from her head. She is so absorbed in the recollection of the war that claimed their lives that she does not notice when the summer winds push her in a more southern direction. All that she can think of amidst the distant rumble of thunder is the sacrifice that her people have made.

I'm sorry, ioquichtihua. Forgive me, ipihuan. I did not ask for this. I did not ask for you to die. Bowing her sapphire crown in grief, the maiden presses her delicate lids closed, entrusting the warm tallsun air to carry her upon its breath. She is not so weak as to allow a tear to roll down her sombre cheek, but she is still unable to save her heart from the pain that torments her so. Why does she hold on to these dark memories like a child too stubborn to abandon his worn-down toy? It is because even though the warrior can accept that she is the last of her kind, she is afraid of losing her family forever.

All I want is to be close to you again.

She slowly unveils her orange pools to reveal a lack of emotion in their depths. The chieftess should feel disappointment, anger, anything, but she will not take the bait. She cannot tether herself to the souls of the lost, at least not here.

Dispelling the clutter that her thoughts of the past have left her with, Bellona turns her empty stare to the ground below her. The sound of thunder -- as quiet as it was already -- is replaced by warm blasts of air ruffling the fur in her audits. She takes in the unexpected scenery with a dull sense of awe that spreads slowly throughout her color-stained hide. The speed at which the emotion fills her bodice rivals that of the sluggish streams of lava, but she finally submits to the feeling and allows for it to override her senses. Never before has she ever seen something like it, and not even her melancholy mood can suppress the curiosity that flares up within her rouge breast.

Angling her instruments so that she descends towards the unnatural blue magma, the forms of other inquisitive equines start to come into focus. She pays barely any attention to the fellow pegasi that have already gathered -- she does not know who they are, nor care much to get to know them -- but her ears do manage to pick up on what the gold-dusted one is saying.

What an idiot. If it really was going to explode, then what is she doing standing there? The mare expels an exasperated snort. She may be in a melancholy mood tonight, but her manners around incompetent creatures are still the same. Bellona makes sure to give the mare a wide berth as she makes her landing, and settles herself a good distance away from the other winged folk. She has respect only for the molten goddess, and she fans out the feathers at her wither as she bows to the maiden.

"I understand the bond well, teotl. My mother trained me in the art of contacting spirits." Her tone is low and pleasing, but the warrior is uncertain if her words speak the truth or not. She has not attempted to speak with the spirits since her arrival in this land, and she is not sure that she can remember how. What has she been doing this past year, if she has not been trying to reach out to her late tribe?

Wasting time, come the bird's bitter thoughts, but she knows that her travels have not all been for nothing. Determination to fulfil her promise still courses through her veins. But no longer. Teotl, please, I beg of you; give me a tool so that I might lessen this burden.


"Talk talk talk."
{ioquichtihua- loosely translates to "brothers".
ipihuan- loosely translates to "sisters".
teotl- "goddess".

Desires a common Rougarou companion. No previous drops refused.}