Gull

“Bravo my friend. I can see that if I am ever in need of an instructor, you are surely the one to approach.” Enter the most beautiful creature you have ever seen. You flew away wanting different, and it looks like different is exactly what you got. As she walks—no, saunters—into the clearing, you get an appreciative eyeful of her vibrant coat and colorful wings. He-llo, stranger. A low nicker of appreciation rumbles in your throat. You remember flying through a rainbow once; this mare looks like that, but intensified times…oh, about a million. You’ve never seen anything like her, with all the reds and blues and greens, but then again, you’ve lived on a glorified rock in the middle of the ocean for most of your life, so really, what do you know?

But what fascinates you most about the mare, besides all the colors (and besides that perky little rump of hers), is that she is healthy. Hard muscle coils under smooth hair, skin spreads tightly over her belly without stretching over jutting ribs, and the light in her piercing eyes is far from flickering. In this place you have come to, are pegasi alive and well? Her glossy condition ignites a flame in your chest—not just of boyish lust, but of hope. The only pegasi you have ever known were sick and starving. Is this a place where things are different?

However, her cutting voice interrupts your thoughts, and you snap back to reality. She asks if you were trying to impress her, and a playful grin spreads across your face. Her sarcasm is not lost upon you, but you are used to abrasive females—starving on a rock didn’t always breed the best attitudes back at home. Sharp words didn’t mean they didn’t like you. “Oh no, lady,” you drawl, approaching her with a little swagger of your own in your step, “If I wanted to impress you…well, let’s just say that it wouldn’t be with my flying ability.” A raucous laugh erupts from your lips as you wink at her, snickering at your own innuendo.

You soon learn that her name is Bellona— “Bell-ooo-na,” you repeat, enjoying the way your lips smack on the sound—and then she tells you, no, commands you to eat. Bossy thing she is, isn’t she? But you won’t protest. You’ve never seen this much lush grass in your life, and you respond enthusiastically, yanking up bunches at a time. “By the way,” you interject between hearty mouthfuls, “the name’s Gull.” There are so many questions that you want to ask her (what is this place? are there more of us? how about after dinner you and I find ourselves someplace a little more…private?), but a single interruption changes it all.

You are halfway through your intimate meal with this exquisite she-thing when someone speaks. “Bellona, and…sir.” Your head snaps up, and all you see are horns, and they are pointed at you. It’s a pity about Bellona…my guess is that she’s not going to want much to do with you after she sees how you run at the stranger, bellowing.

OOC: so @[Bellona], feel free to reply with her reaction if you’d like, but I’m more than happy to do a follow-up thread with you after Gull and Rosti spar. I’m going to end it here so that I can get him changed to Outcast and request fighting stats, and then @[Rostislav], I’ll type up a spar in the battleground, set here.

trouble just grew wings