The sweet scent of fresh blossoms is overpowering now that the Chieftess has collected so many petals. Instead of her usual fragrance -- one most often identified by its earthen odour -- she now reeks of a much more delicate stench. Blue-dipped tresses slap against her nape as she shakes her body out in an attempt to be rid of the perfume, but her efforts are futile. She may lose the charming buds, yes, but unless she desires to go for a swim she will be tainted with their smell for quite a while. The brooding vixen doesn't know what is worse: smelling like a damsel, or acting as useless as one.

Although, according to Gull, the peahen has better things to show concern for. He had called her desirable, once, after all, and she has done her best to remain unattainable since then. It isn't as if she has made things easy on him. But am I too blunt for this vibrant creature? Do I ruin his image of me every time I am in his presence?

The maiden's barred legs shift around her fragile charge, careful not to disturb it as she finally turns to meet the silver's gaze. At first her stare is determined -- she will not be crippled by the seas that make up this perplexing stag -- but her resolve is soon forgotten when her gaze lands on his shadowed face, and drifts downwards from there. What are you doing to me, atlacatl? Orange eyes graze across his musculature like a match stick grating against emery. Her scrutiny of the silver-tipped man is forced at first, nothing more than a necessary step before an action that has yet to be significant. What comes after, though, is what really brings light to the dazzling woman's world; the reaction that occurs during the time that the match is struck. Something... glorious.

But it is ruined the very moment that he speaks. In an instance, the flames that define her desire for him flicker dangerously low.

The transformation is quick, and although it cannot be seen in the gaping vixen, it can be felt. At first it seems unattainable, impossible even, but it is a familiar feeling inside the confines of her mind. She is used to shielding herself away from others, to burying her thoughts in the shallow graves inside her mind, but she had not wanted this for him. Here she is, lying with her sloping back tucked firmly beside him, and all that he can do is play around with her? Who do you think you are?

"I only keep my eye on those I deem worthy." Which you no longer are. The mare's words are contempt, and she flicks her muzzle skywards with a snort. Screw this tender moment, and screw him too. It is better to go it alone, anyway; she does not need him. "It is my reward. For slaying its mother." Her words are vicious and perhaps unnecessarily cruel, but in the maiden's opinion, he deserves it. "Like all things that try to hurt me, Gull, I strike fast and I strike hard."


At this, the bird reaches out towards the egg, nuzzling its rough surface with her cheek as she lays her head to rest. Her body aches to chase the pegasus away from her, to scream at him and tell him to never come back, but a part of her also wants him here. It has been so long since she has wanted someone's company, and as hurt as she is by his lack of devotion to her, the warrior is governed by strength, not by delicacy. His rejection is not something that she cannot handle.

"Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

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{@[Gull]}