Gull

Great. Just great. As if Bellona hadn’t been distracting enough when she’d marched up to you with those perky tailfeathers swaying and shimmering in the sun, when the race had started, she’d had to go screaming in your ear. Startled by her ear-splitting cawing, you’d veered off course at the last second, missing the precious ring by inches. Knocked about in the tumultuous wind created by the rest of the flock as they zoom past you, it’s no surprise that you’re cursing as you spiral towards land.

“THANKS A LOT!” you scream up at her, irritated that now there is no hope of winning. On any other day, you’d be thrilled to see her bright underbelly drifting along above you, but you’re proving to be a rather sore loser, and it’s clear to you that this is all her fault. Hooves snap out angrily as you land, pounding the earth a little harder than necessary. You gallop a short stretch when you hit the grass, letting the tension pour into the soft ground for a good two hundred yards before you slow. Wings flare, then settle on your back. Though your temper is beginning to cool, you still find it vaguely comforting to ruffle your feathers for no one in particular—one last sign of your agitation. As exciting as it is to see so many of your own kind alive and well up here, you’d have preferred that your first impression was more victorious than…than, well, what it was. “Mares,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head with all the wisdom of a virgin six-year-old, “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

@[Bellona]

trouble just grew wings

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

The hybrid is not in the best of moods as her body plummets towards the island. Her scream had been dealt with the intention of throwing her opponents off course, but it has managed to deter the bird from victory as well. In consideration of the race, the descending maiden decides that turtles and levitating lands are not to be trusted. Especially now, when she is about to slam into one of them. Oh Gods.

Fanning out a pair of exuberant wings, Bellona thrusts her hind legs forwards to allow them to touch down first. Her front-most supports churn the air as gravity forces her downwards. The feathered limbs at her sides fill with the atmosphere, slowing her chaotic descent. A second falling form catches her eye just as her hooves collide into the ground, rocking her body forward with a painful jolt. The ground is swift beneath her striped pillars when she dashes forwards to minimize the impact. The Aztec's nares quake with both rage and delight when they recognize the scent of the man that has joined her. His tone is tainted by the former when his words reach her ears.

"My pardons, majesty." Orange eyes flash with outrage at his accusation, and she responds to him with a snarky tone that drips in sarcasm. At the memory of the silver stag's first landing, she seizes the opportunity to remind him that his failure was not entirely her fault. "I could not have just sat idly by, oh-great-master-of-flight."

Yet even through her rage at being blamed for his loss, the bitter woman cannot help but to allow a smile to adorn her lips. "It would appear that I have learned a thing or two from you, telpochtli."

The pain slowly leaks out of her tense limbs as the bird approaches the brute. Her mind protests against her seemingly inviting actions, begging for her to stop and reconsider the situation. This is not your friend! What has he done for you? Nothing! All that he has done is kicked your Legatus' rump -- a pleasure that should have been yours to revel in!

The chieftess will not listen to reason, however, and she tosses her head. To the pegasus it may appear to be a playful gesture, but to the maiden it is a means of dispelling her thoughts. For as long as she has been alone, the wanderer has always yearned for someone to share her pain. Companionship has never been a familiar concept for the ferocious vixen, but she can feel her own need for such a thing deep within her bones. Where does one begin with this? The woman lashes her tail in annoyance. She feels like a fool for not knowing how to proceed, but she is determined not to inform this candidate of her predicament. So how does one put this subtly?

The cold-hearted warrior shimmies her body in an awkward sidestep lacking in all of her grace. When a sapphire hip bumps into a silver one, her eyes widen in surprise. She did it. They were friends now.

"Talk talk talk."

{Telpochtli -- "young warrior."

Okay, I don't even. I don't even know. Bellona is supposed to mean and snarky, but she's like "Nyte, c'mon man, I want a friend." And I'm like, "You don't know how to make friends. Friends is not in your vocabulary". AND THEN THIS.}

@[Gull]

Gull

Well, well, well…what have we here? You can’t help but caw in amusement when you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been knocked out of the race. Raucous peals of laughter ring out across the meadow as none other than Bellona herself approaches. You don’t like losing, but hey, you’ve got to admit: this is one heck of a consolation prize. As you gasp for breath in merriment, it is clear that your anger is quickly dissipating. However, hers is not.

“My pardons, majesty,” she sneers, “I could not have just sat idly by, oh-great-master-of-flight.” Her tone is harsh, but you don’t let that bother you—you’re too busy delighting in her outrage. “Ahh…aha…serves you right…!” you choke out in between your obnoxious chortles. You’re laughing so hard that your sides are heaving. Oh, the twisted justice of it all! “Better not keep screaming, ‘cause we all know how that ends!” You force yourself to maintain a straight face for the delivery, but even that is impossible to pull off for long. But the time you reach the punch line, your face has contorted into a wild expression of suppressed hilarity, and then, you just can't contain yourself. With the force of a geyser (or in your case, perhaps an out-of-control fire hose) your laughter bursts forth again as you snicker at your own joke.

“It would appear that I have learned a thing or two from you, telpochtli,” she tells you, apparently still a little punch-drunk as she stumbles over to you, bumping her hip against your own. You don’t know what that last thing she just called you means, but you know from her smile that she can tell she’s got you. You sober up, laughter subsiding as you recall your last crash landing, which unluckily for you, she was all too present to witness. But a comeback is a comeback, and you can’t help but smile good-naturedly at the quip. “So you have,” you concede, looking sideways at her, “And I can teach you a thing or two more…if you know what I mean, Bell.” You give her a cheeky wink and a nickname simultaneously, her abbreviated title rolling off of your lips with an easy familiarity. It’s doubtful that this mare will appreciate either, but you lack both the sensibility to know that and the subtlety to keep your thoughts to yourself. You’ll be lucky if that last comment doesn’t get you a swift kick to the face.

OOC: Hopefully my shamelessly dirty boy doesn’t ruin the beginning of a beautiful friendship xD

@[Bellona]

trouble just grew wings

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

The broad-shouldered stallion doesn't know how lucky he is. For as hard as he may try, his dirty mind and sensual content will never have their desired effect on the irresistible bird. She is equal parts primitive and intelligent; trained in the arts of war and shamanism, but lacking in the "Manners & Romance" department. If the look of confusion -- and outrage-- isn't a big enough hint for him, then surely her next words will help drive the message home.

"No, I don't know what you mean." She furrows her brow at the quaking brute, almost regretting her decision to befriend him. "Stop laughing, before I make you." So much for being friends. Already, in their camaraderie which has lasted all of thirty seconds, the bird has already managed to threaten him. The maiden rolls her eyes at her own foolishness. A blue dusted nose brushes against a haggard mane when the bird nips at him. This is as playful as her actions go, however, and she is unwilling to make up for her harsh words with anything else. Oh, but one more thing.

"And my name is still Bellona." Perhaps one day I will let you call me Bell. She does not say this last part aloud for fear of ruining the delicate bond between them. Nicknames, at least for the tribeswoman, are not to be used lightly -- they are more a means of showing affection than anything else, and she is not comfortable enough to have one yet. Not that he knows her language or customs anyway, or else he would have puffed out his chest at her compliment. Xolopitli. Does he not know that he is playing with fire?

"If you think that you are so much better than me, then how about we race? Just you and I." The spark of a challenge -- and perhaps a bit of something else? -- ignites in her eyes, and she presses her face into his neck again. She had intended to grasp his hair with her teeth and tow him with her, but now, at this close of a proximity, his scent has finally dawned on her. It isn't the most alluring of aromas -- the beauty has, in fact, caught a whiff of a large assortment of stallions in her time -- but it isn't unpleasant, either. She has never cared much for vanity, or even the attraction of others, but every maiden has her needs. It just so happens that Bellona's needs are most easily met by bloodshed.


"Talk talk talk."

{Xolopitli -- "Fool."}

@[Gull]

Gull

Her indignant expression makes you snort again in amusement, to which the mare does not take kindly. “No, I don’t know what you mean,” she replies icily, adding, “Stop laughing, before I make you.” Raising an eyebrow, you obey with mock sincerity, ogling her with wide-eyed innocence as she snaps at you. You wouldn’t mind a little flirtation in return for your gallant offer, but this works too—shocking her is almost as fun.

“And my name is still Bellona,” she corrects you, as if she is a broodmare reprimanding an unruly foal. Yeesh. Talk about someone seriously in need of a good time. Lighten up, Bell, you think, shaking your head slightly at her stiffness. “Whatever you say, Bell…ona,” you reply lightly, tacking on the end of her name at the last second, if only to aggravate her. While it’s probably not the best way to woo a lady, you enjoy poking and prodding at her. Someone needs to teach her not to take herself too seriously, maybe even have a little fun once in a while, y'know? You’re only too happy to oblige.

It seems that Bell’s got some other ideas of fun, however. Changing the subject, she promptly challenges you to a rematch, but this time, just the two of you. Well. You like the sound of that. A low nicker rumbles in your throat, a little entertained, a little suggestive. She wants to race? Sure, why not? You’ll do just about anything she suggests right about now, especially if she wants to keep her eyelashes tickling your poll like that. Her touch surprises you, for your highly-refined seduction techniques have never worked this fast (well, let’s forget for just a moment that they’ve never worked at all), but you won’t question it. “Is there a prize for the winner?” you inquire shamelessly, flexing your neck and bumping her shoulder lightly as you puff out your chest. “And how far do you wanna go? I’m usually more of an endurance guy, but I can do short and quick too.” It’s a boldfaced lie, for sprints are definitely your forté, but then again, your tone hints that you’re not just talking about racing, are you?

@[Bellona]

OOC: Oh goodness. No more late-night posting for me! Sorry I didn’t set a course, but I didn’t want to get too far ahead with dialogue like that for her to chew on ;)

trouble just grew wings

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

Is he being serious right now?

It takes everything the hybrid has to prevent herself from harming the stallion. One of her striped pillars begins to tremble, itching to stain that silver hide of his with a much more bloody color. The urge to inflict pain upon the grullo, although strong, swiftly fades into something with much fewer consequences; a need to defend herself from the onslaught of innuendos that are coming her way. But fortunately -- or perhaps unfortunately? -- for the graceless maiden, she has never understood much in the ways of flirting anyway. Most of his words sail harmlessly over her pretty blue head, but she can tell just by the stallion's tone that he is trying to get a reaction out of her. And it is working.

Rather than reprimanding the tobiano for his careless misuse of her name, she chooses to tug at the talisman around his neck instead. The hybrid is actually warming up to the idea of adopting Bell as her new nickname, but only a select few will ever be allowed to wield it. She is certainly okay with Gull being the first.

"What's this?" The bird struggles to replace her usually blunt tone with a much more inviting one. It most likely sounds like a horrible attempt at being playful, but for the chieftess, it's pretty damn good. "Feathers from a friend, perhaps?" Or lover. She immediately spits the trinket out of her mouth, suddenly disgusted with her comrade for coming on so strong. If there is another mare in his life, then what is he doing with her?

Reeling back from the winged beast with a mad dash of feet, the panicking vixen slams her colorful pillars into the ground to carry her away. Her eyes grow wider as she runs, unfurling her wings to send her flying in the air as her mind struggles to regain control. Did she not try to shield her heart from this sort of thing? What did she expect to gain from him: an ally, or something more? Her friendship with the brute was as sudden as her departure from him, and the rainbow warrior certainly hasn't forgotten about their own little competition. But how can she face a man who confuses her so? His words all hide some dirty secret, and whereas before she had been ready to play his silly games she is not so sure now. How could she have even attempted to grow close to this brute?

Because you are trying to feel again, that's why. And you need to learn not to feel. What if his silly little momento is nothing, and you are just making yourself out to be a fool? That last part makes the most sense out of the rest of the ideas swirling around in her mind. If that is the case, then you had better go makes things right.

She leans to the left to spin herself around, forcing her skull into the swift currents in the air to erase the look of confusion upon her face. Quickly replacing it with something a little more suitable, the bird bellows a challenge out to the brute, praying that he did not follow her in her escape.

"To the pillars in the East. I spied them there when we fell." It is strange to admit to such a feat as falling, but it seems almost natural to speak of it with Gull. "I might just let you call me Bell if you win." A tentative smile crosses her maw, twisting it into a cruel shape. She knows that he will call her whatever he wishes to anyway, but might as well make him think that he is earning something.

"And if I win..." At this, the maiden's song fails. She has no idea what she would want in return if she just so happened to win their race. The truth. That would be a stellar prize. "Well, you can be the judge of that."

"Talk talk talk."

@[Gull]

Gull

“What’s this?” It seems that with her face buried in your neck, Bell has discovered the feathers that lie hidden in your mane. “Feathers from a friend perhaps?” she teases, tugging on them. While you can hear her becoming playful, her timing couldn’t be worse. “Hey!” you growl sharply, jerking away just as she lets go, “don’t touch those!” Disgruntled, you reach back to smooth the feathers under your tangled locks, nosing them carefully into place. Not that she would notice, for when you look up, you see that she has wheeled away from you, likely trying to entice you into a game of tag…or to get a head start. Indignation flares in your chest at the thought—she hasn’t even told you where you’re going! Nevertheless, you streak after her, because though she may be heaven on hooves, you won’t be pushed around by this little cheat, not today. Not after the stunt she pulled with your feathers.

When she wheels, you nearly slam into her. In order to avoid a collision, you pitch yourself to the side at the last second, crow-hopping rather comically as you struggle both to slow and to regain your balance. “What was that?” you squawk when you finally pull up, wings flaring in irritation. Whatever games the peahen is playing, you’re not following. She has you really riled now, and your feathers are so ruffled that you’re nearly speechless—you even miss a golden opportunity to let fly a quip about playing dirty. This is a rare occurrence indeed.

But while you are at a loss for words, the mare is not. “To the pillars in the East,” she screeches, head tossed to the skies. “I might just let you call me Bell if you win,” she challenges, turning orange eyes on you. The wind whips her colorful hair around her face, and when she smiles, there is an edge to her expression. “And if I win,” your opponent finishes, voice lowering thoughtfully, “well, you can be the judge of that.” Don’t worry, Bell, you think sulkily, gazing eastward, there’s no danger of that. However, for once in your life, you keep your thoughts to yourself. You have no energy to waste on playful banter, not when it can be better spent leaving her in the eddies of your tumultuous wake.

“Let’s go,” you mutter tersely, moving to stand alongside her. “And no screaming,” you add. “On my count,” you tell her, with a quick glance to the side to make sure she is ready. “One…two…THREE!” you roar, surging forward on the final number. For a few moments, hooves skim over the ground as you take off in a full gallop, and then you are launching yourself into the sky, your blue eyes wildly searching for the pillars that mark the finish. You’ve got a thing or two to teach this mare…and not in the way you offered earlier.

@[Bellona]

OOC: Whoa...someone's a little unsettled.

trouble just grew wings

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

A hearty bellow slips past dark lips as a declarative roar falls from much paler ones. If not for the pull of the wind against her feathers and the image of the grullo up ahead, the maiden would have taken it upon herself to think of a comeback. A harsh orange stare follows after the brute, who is speeding ahead. Although the snarky bird cannot form the words with her tongue, that does not stop her from saying them in her mind. That's quite a scream coming from someone who didn't want to hear any. Oh, how she wishes that she can pester him with that, but now is not the time for petty retorts; now is the time to concentrate.

Seeking to gain altitude, the Aztec searches for a warm draft of air to carry her above the cherry trees. She finds what she is looking for, but in the worst imaginable spot. She rises like one of the many petals on the wind, but she does not make it past the trees as gracefully as her pink sisters. A thousand bony fingers whip against her body as she tries to push through the dense pink canopy, but the task seems nearly impossible. It is not until the struggling peahen catches sight of the fleeing Gull that she gains the strength to fulfil her painful task. Why the hell is it so easy for him?

The peahen's wings catch on a particularly solid bow, causing a downpour of petals and blossoms to fall. Some of the flowers become tangled in her mane, providing her with a valid excuse to finally be rid of the wretched thing. She jerks her head away from the tendril overhead, receiving a very unnecessary slap from the one opposite it. A sapphire cheek starts to throb, which only angers the warrior further. She struggles again, receiving several more lashes for her efforts.

Oh for God's sake! A frustrated scream explodes from her maw as she twists her limbs in vain. Her thrashing only manages to trap her further, and to make things worse, the furious vixen is beginning to tire. Who the hell put a forest here, anyway? And who the FUCK decided to make a floating FUCKING island?! It appears that, like Gull, Bellona is no longer in the best of moods either. And that's really saying something.

"Gull!" She doesn't care that they are supposed to be friends now; that they are supposed to be nice to each other. She's stuck in a god damn tree, and it's his fault because she had been trying to impress him when she suggested a race in the first place. The maiden lashes out with her hinds one last time, desperate to get out of this sticky situation without the help of a man who will never allow her to forget this. Her attempts at freeing herself are futile, as her wriggling legs have only managed to scrape off the bark of some bulky branch below her, which she plops herself onto to save her aching wings.

Well, it had been nice while it lasted. At least the writhing peahen can now brag about the friend that she had made. The one that hurt her, if only for a second, because she thought he loved another woman. The one that is going to die unless he decides to do something about it.

"GULL GET OVER HERE OR SO HELP YOU GOD I WILL KILL YOU." Her shrieks do little to hide their anger, but they do keep out her desperation.


"Talk talk talk."

@[Gull] {Well. Can't say Bellona has ever been this helpless before. It just kind of.. happened. Oh, and, pun totally intended. XD}

Gull

“GULL!” The wind carries Bellona’s scream ahead to you, but you’re not falling for that trick again. Instead, you pump your wings harder, soaring above the cherry trees. You’ll beat her this time, with or without her little games, you think resolutely, not bothering to answer. It is only when you finally spy the distant pillars in the east that you look back for a second—just to watch her expression as she sees you winning—that you notice something’s amiss: the sky behind you is empty.

While you continue to fly, you’re confused. Rapidly, light eyes scan the airspace around you, looking for anything remotely jewel-colored streaking towards the finish. Did she take a shortcut that you don’t know about? But you see no one emerging victoriously from some hidden path, nor hear anyone’s bossy voice trumpeting her triumph, until—“GULL! GET OVER HERE OR SO HELP YOU…” Ah. There it is. Against your better judgment, you swing wide in a banking turn, reversing your course to find wherever she is and whatever she’s squalling about. What is it now? Another one of her tricks?

You’re grumbling to yourself as you flap your way back over the groves of cherry trees, feeling very suspicious at the turn this competition has taken. Mares. Why can’t a race just be a race? “If this is what you’ve got to do to win,” you call, still searching for your well-hidden rainbow, “I think we both know what that says about y—” Your sentence is cut short by stunned silence at one of the most bizarre scenarios you’ve ever encountered: below you, Bellona is stuck in a tree.

Not surprisingly, the silence doesn’t last long. You’re laughing uproariously by the time you pass over her, and you’re so weak with hysteria as you land in a nearby clearing that you nearly fall out of the sky on her account…again. Enjoying yourself thoroughly, you saunter over to her. “So,” you remark impishly, looking up at her, “I guess this means I win?” You hiccup out another obnoxious cackle. “Didn’t know you were going to take the scenic route, Bell—though I’ve got to say, it’s a pretty scenic view from down here as well.” It’s true, really, even outside the rather lecherous implications of your comment. Framed by the dark fingers of the cherry branches and lent a halo by the hazy golden sunlight, your companion does look beautiful. She’s even got a few stray blossoms in her hair, you notice, squinting up at her. A low whinny rumbles appreciatively in your throat. Maybe you should just leave her up there for another minute.

@[Bellona]

trouble just grew wings

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

Exuberant feathers and budding blossoms rain down on the chortling boy as the beauty struggles to send him a swift kick to the face. Much like her previous attempts at lashing out with them, her striped pillars collide against a branch, forcing the limb to recoil as the pain hits her. Dark ears twitch as they wait for the laughter to die down, and they only flatten against her skull when the first remark reaches them. The bird's battered features are made more terrifying -- or perhaps more entertaining -- when her anger takes possession of her.

"You just shut up, and get me down from here!" The charcoal stag carries on as if giving delivering a speech. The ensnared bird can barely see him through the mess of flowers and branches, but she can almost picture his smug smile just by the tone of his voice. "Just wait until I get down there, and then you can talk to me about the view!" She might not be enjoying this, but he clearly is.

Making one last attempt at freeing herself before finally admitting defeat, the colored mare twists her body in an attempt to roll off of her perch. Going up certainly isn't getting her anywhere, so going down just might be the answer. The bird manages to shift her weight so that it leaned on only one side of her wooden pedestal and not on equally on either. The maneuver has managed to trap one wing beneath her, however, and just as she moves to free it the maiden begins to fall.

The canopy's harsh weapons hold nothing back as they exact their revenge on the peahen. She responds to her lashes with her own kind of attack, snapping the hardened tendrils with the weight of her body as gravity beckons her earthwards. A shocked gasp leaps from the warrior's maw, and the sudden outburst of air is soon followed by the thump of her body against ground. Her lungs almost seem to burst from the impact, and the fallen bird struggles for air as her chest explodes with pain. Long legs ache from their sudden landing and feathered limbs twitch in response to the agony that ravages her body.

A bloodied lip smears red across the grass as she presses her weary head into it. As the lattice work of pain ebbs from her breast, the Aztec sputters a retort to the waiting brute. Not much can be made of her furious wheezing except, "...you ass." The defeated lady lies on the ground until her heart finally considers slowing down. She scans her body for injuries with a forceful jerk of her head. Numerous scrapes, a handful of bruises, and one wounded spirit. Not bad for all of the trouble that she had to go through. She may have to nurse a few injuries for a while, but at least she knows of a cure for one thing on her list.

"What took you so long?" Her voice starts out as a croak, but the words gain strength as she goes on. "Threats not good enough for you, are they?" Throwing her body forwards to prop herself up on her forelegs, the battered Chieftess offers the grullo a smile. It is tight-lipped and meant mostly to intimidate him, but underneath all the layers of betrayal and vindication, she really does mean to make up for her threats. An orange set of orbs seek out blue ones as she wrenches the rest of her body upwards.

"You could say you won the race, but you could also claim a victory for 'Least-Desired-by-Trees'."

"Talk talk talk."


@[Gull]

Gull

Much to your disappointment, Bellona’s thrashing finally pays off. She (along with most of the tree’s blossoms) come tumbling to earth, though the blossoms make a much more graceful descent than she does. As you’re shaking the flowers out of your mane, a heavy thud sounds dully at your hooves. You peer down at her still form, wondering in faint alarm if she managed to break something, but when she stirs, you can’t help but smirk at her in renewed amusement. She doesn’t see the humor in the situation (that much becomes apparent as soon as she’s able to speak), however, you think that her bloody lip only adds to the image of a deranged bird as she hisses at you. You don’t feel sorry for her—you’ve seen much worse—and besides, if she’s well enough for name-calling, she can’t be hurt that badly.

“Well that wasn’t your most graceful landing,” you remark mildly, stepping back on the pretext of giving her room to rise. Really though, you’d rather get out of striking distance after that comment—while she’s still on the ground, you’re in range of her teeth, and you’d rather she’d not take a chunk out of your leg. “What took you so long?” she tries to snap, but the beginning is labored. “Threats not good enough for you, are they?” she finishes with a tight smile. You return the favor, smiling sweetly back at her. “Sorry Bell—I was all the way over at the pillars, see. I figured I’d pass you on my way back, but I didn’t expect that you’d stop to climb a tree on the way.”

The rainbow mare finally rises with a jerk, and you wonder vaguely if she might just lose patience and attack you, but to your surprise (and delight), it’s only banter that she throws your way. “You could say that you won the race, but you could also claim a victory for ‘Least-Desired-by-Trees,’” she observes, and you chuckle, taking a step closer. “What are you saying, Bell?” you wink, eyeing her cheekily. “That you’re the most desirable?”

OOC: Sorry for the wait! I’m kind of all over the place with Gull right now!

@[Bellona]

trouble just grew wings