My delicate, dark cream ears swivel frantically upon my tiara until they remain in their place, angled towards the quivering branches just behind and above me. I swing my head around in one fluid motion, my shoulders making no protest when I do so. The tight c-shape of my craning neck would test the flexibility of most equines, but the length of my neck and the absence of bulging muscles do not make the maneuver any more unbearable. I've managed to keep myself limber whilst on my travels, and so I do not consider it to be much of a problem for me, let alone a challenging feat. All it does is allow me to wonder at the ebony tail that hangs from the trees, and to run my odd-colored gaze over the two speckled wings hanging closest to me.

"What the hell is on your head?" The blunt question came from the branches that housed the hanging appendages, and it didn't take long for me to understand that she was speaking of my headdress. Her remark doesn't surprise me at all, however; I have received many comments regarding the tiara that adorns my head, and most of them were not particularly positive ones. Much like how this mare responded -- I had picked up a feminine tone in her voice, and so decided that since I could understand her that she was a mare -- the others had thought of my headdress as a comical thing, and I was often laughed at because of it. I didn't mind, really, because who was I to tell them what was appropriate to make fun and what was not? It was none of my business, and I had no interest in explaining to them the worth of my jewelry, nor to point out that it symbolized my healing status in the region that I was traveling from. I had the sudden urge to answer this creature's own inquiry of it, though I did not know why. Maybe it was her condescending tone of voice that irritated me, and all I wanted to do was to shed some light on the mare's unfair tone.

Before I could get a word out, however, the feathered beast had dove from her perch and snapped her wings open, gliding over the cool updrafts of the wind and landing delicately beside me. Surprise caused my brows to spike up at the sight of her as I was not prepared for such a finely crafted subject such as this pegasus to reveal herself as the owner of such a rude voice.

"Looks like a bird crashed into your head and couldn't get out again. And just what the hell are you doing standing around here anyway? Waiting for more birds to hit your face?"

My ears lowered themselves until they grazed the top of my skull, the cool sensation of the bands of gold that kept my tiara on my head causing them to flinch. Her blunt and, to put it plainly, rude way of speech was beginning to get under my skin, but my unlimited supply of patience was keeping me in check rather well. My green-blue gaze traveled over the course of the pegasus' architecture, and a small smirk breaks out upon my visage when I conclude that she is very young. Much younger than me, in fact, both in appearance and in personality. She is just a nosy child trying to get off on your embarrassment. She expects a snappy answer from you in retaliation for her harsh words, but do not give her that satisfaction. Another smirk, accompanied by a soft snort, crawls across my face when I think of how idiotic this creature must think that I am. Of course I am wearing my tiara for a reason, and that reason is most definitely not for others to make fun of it.

It is not in my nature to act out with vehemence or bitterness, however, so I just calmly reply in my even tone, "The spectacle that you see upon my head is a headdress, child, and I assure you that it did not come to be between my two ears because a bird landed there." I shake my head as if to rid myself of the mess that would be present if such a thing had occurred, causing the feathers to clack together and catch several tendrils of my mane between them. I shift my weight from one hind foot to the other before stating, "They were a gift, and they are both precious to me; the tiara and the necklace, that it is -- they're a matching set. And no, I am not here for that reason. I am here because the Gods have called me, and I am not one to judge their courses of action. I've been called for a reason, young one, and I intend to follow through with the wishes of my Gods no matter the cost. I think that it would be appropriate for me to take the time to introduce myself to you, and to any possible leaders that run the regions of this land, however. My name is Talianna, devoted priestess of the Gods."

Walk walk walk.

"Talk talk talk".

A shadow falls over my mismatched eyes at this beast's words, but I still manage to keep myself from saying something that I know that I will regret. I know that she is just playing with me, trying to make me lose my temper, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of watching the spittle fly from my maw as I berate her for the harsh words and the misconceptions that she has targeted towards my gods. At this point my endless stores of patience are starting to wane, and my joyous facade has dampened into a look that barely shows my tolerance for the winged mare, but I persevere. Afterall, I had had to put up with my mother's racist plights for the past six years.

"No, child, I did not kill a bird to craft this crown. I would never harm such a creature; nor would I shed the blood of any animal. It is not right to cause pain to another." I give the shorter mare a hard stare, making sure that my message has made it through that thick skull of hers regardless of my heavy spanish accent. It is after a few moments have passed that I decide that I need to clarify what I have just said.

"Our kind are known to be quite territorial, yes? Much blood is spilled each year because of our tendencies to act out with much anger. Instead of joining in our kind's wars, I prefer to remain without alliance, and offer my services to all."

Without realizing it, I had stepped closer to the feathery child and now I was craning my neck to look into her blue eyes, my eyes wide with my will for her to understand. A snort sounds from my chocolate naves when she begins to speak again, asking more questions and rubbing my beliefs in even more dirt. I toss my head back at her mentioning if a shit god, astounded by her arrogance and not entirely impressed with her attempt at humor. A cacophony of clacks follows my exasperated gesture as the feathers strung around my neck clash against one another, and when my crown runs parallel to the earth again I snap,

"No, there is no god of mierda -- of 'shit' -- and I am not sure that even the plants have their own gods. How am I to know of a plant's way of life when I myself am not one? And who are you to say that my lords and ladies do not exist? Have you met with them? Where is your truth? Your evidence?" My eyes flash with anger as conviction begins to enter my words, making my accent sound much thicker than it is normally, when I am my usual self. It would appear that the ebony one had been successful in enraging me after all.

"It is you that is nothing, little mocoso. And how dare you make such false claims." Lashing my long tresses against my flanks, I turn on my heels and -- with my head held high and my banner on full display -- storm away from the mare, determined to meet with each herd on my own if it is only imbeciles that will great me in this realm.


{OOC: Mocoso means 'brat' in Spanish. :3}
Walk walk walk.

"Talk talk talk".