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The midnight and ivory creature came plummeting out of the sky in a fury of feathers and wind, sending a great cloud of dust up at the gathered crowd, causing Larkspur to blink against the fine silt as it invaded her senses even more than it already had, chomping her jaw in distaste at the granules of sand that crunched between her teeth. She does not respond to his show of strength as he settles himself between the stolen Elizabeth and Faelene, but rather remains an unwavering statue of the deepest blue against the vivid red of the desert sand. She does miss the brief glance of this winged stranger as he speaks and assesses their little band, and she makes sure to meet his sky blue eyes with her own aureate gaze, her intent clear, burning and smoldering beneath the canvas of her silent resolve, the only warning she will offer.
He would be unwise to discount any of them.
She can sense Déodat as he draws nearer, lingering at her shoulder, a wraith encased in crimson, radiant indigo eyes veiled by strands of obsidian silk. She can feel his discontent, the same restless hatred that roils and churns like a storm in her own heart is likely present in his as well. Hatred and abhorrence, animosity and loathing, linger like a disease, creeping their way into the crevices of the soul, crawling across expanse of the mind, slashing, tearing and leaving nothing but broken tranquility and ruined serenity in their wake. They must not be brash though, for to let such feelings of incensed ineptitude to overcome them now would be a dangerous, a most grievous fault to make in the presence of enemies and foreign foes. Too much depended on this meeting ending in friendly terms of amity and armistice. To let tempers rise to the surface, snapping, spitting and venomous would be nothing short of a disaster.
Sultana Kri, whom Larkspur had only heard of, was shortly behind the arrival of her brethren. She too blustered and blew in on the drafts of the winds, plunging out of the clear desert air and landing amongst them all, her wings cracking, snapping and sounding against the strains of gravity, her hooves clattering in a maddening cadence against the deep red earth. Larkspur could feel her presence immediately, commanding and imposing in a manner that seemed odd given the Sultana’s small stature, but even the cerulean mare knew better than to discount a fellow warrior because of size. What truly mattered was the size of their heart. Continuing to remain in a respectful, dignified silence, Larkspur appraised the situation as Kri spoke her cordial welcomes, golden eyes keen and calculating beneath the shrouded cover of the dark forelock that fell messily across the sharp contours of her face. She looked again to Azzuen as his name was mentioned, tucking it securely away into her memory for safe keeping as Lena began to speak. Larkspur’s friend spoke in tones of sincere kindness and undeniable earnestness, extending her offer of a peaceable end to this lunacy with practiced poise and unfettered composure. Larkspur stood in quiet agreement beside the diplomat, motionless and looming, ambiguity unrevealing of the hatred that lingered just beneath it. If the bay unicorn could not convince these wild wind walkers to see the madness behind their method, then no one could.
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Be great in act, as you have been in thought. [rescue]
