It is her curiosity about this new land that brings her out from the shadows of the Dawn Court. In fact, she’s not even sure what ‘The Dawn Court’ means. She has no loyalties to anyone, no one to pledge her allegiance to. She came here and was pointed in that direction – plain and simple. She didn’t seek out that place intentionally and she chooses not to stay there long. She chooses to meander and explore, something the young mare has done all too well. She knows loneliness. She knows what’s it’s like to survive on one’s own and it is a life she embraces.

And so, the mare wanders.

Her travels take her here and there, everywhere and yet nowhere. She finds herself in the most disgusting prairie. The hills are rolling, the flowers blooming, and there’s not a damn tree in sight. She prefers the shadows, it’s where she feels the most safe. And yet here she finds herself in a while open area and the thought that someone might be watching her is not lost on her. She can smell others and she knows she’s the intruder here. Briefly she wonders if this land is accepting of strangers, or if she is immediately defined as a threat. While she might not be a warrior seeking to take her claim on this area, she can’t deny her lust after knowledge.

She stands in the middle of the prairie, her eyes looking up to the sun. The clouds are rolling above her and she can feel the afternoon heat baking against her black hide. She feels exposed, open and exposed. And there’s a feeling she cannot shake. Someone is watching her. Someone is staring at her, waiting to make their move. She can feel their eyes on her, their breath on her skin. Perhaps it’s just the wind. “Who’s there?” When Sloane asks the question, she expects and answer.

She halts, her body language relaxed and yet, she can feel the muscles of her legs at the ready. She is not here to ruin her hide with a fight. She’s more of a flight risk than anything. Scars were unbecoming. “Show your face.” Her confidence exudes her and her eyes scan the horizon looking for the one who watches her. She is not afraid and her voice shows that. She hates people who stare and say nothing. Then again, she’s really that same type of individual. Perhaps she is the only exception to her hate.

@Isra or @Calliope

She can see the way the wings carry the other through the clouds, almost as though she is diving in and out of some sort of consciousness. It’s eerie and yet, it’s beautiful. Sloane was never blessed with wings before, but then again, she never envied anyone for having them. Wings were an easy escape, something that she deemed to be a coward’s appendage. Instead of using shadows to hide oneself or fighting with brute strength, those with wings were destined to run and hide deep within the clouds – a place where not many could find them. Only some could use their wings effectively, using them to grasp at their prey much like an eagle grasping a rabbit. And that is what this mare does…though she is far less graceful.

Sloane watches her dive towards the ground, nearly appearing as though she was on a crash course with the earth. It would not have saddened her to see her splatter like a pancake. To see her blood stain this colorful prairie might have been a beautiful blessing. But that does not happen and Sloane is let down by this fact. But she shows nothing on her face, her slit eyes only watching as the mare sticks her landing.

It is not missed on the mare how much disrespect the other has for her own wings. Many think of wings as an advantage in war, a way to flee the enemy only to turn back around and attack from the air. Many respect this thought…but now her. This stranger seems to care nothing for her wings, just allowing them to drag along the grass. She can only be thankful that a few of the colorful flowers are leveled. At least she’s taking some of the beauty out of this meadow. It’s suffocating.

Her voice is raspy and not at all smooth. It doesn’t settle well on her ears and is rather bothersome. Was it so much to ask that her voice at least be appealing? She’s not asking for the world, but she at least wants to tolerate it. “I never regret my hunger for knowledge. Knowledge and secrets can be used as currency – currency that everyone accepts.” Everyone thirsted for knowledge. Secrets could build up or hurt an individual and they could be bought and sold like any other merchandise. Sloane lived for this currency and she was not about to regret wondering just what this individual was. She had never seem something like it before, but she wanted to know more. Even as the mare stepped closer, in defiance, she steps closer as well. She did not fear this individual.

@wormlust

Her eyes are transfixed, unsure of this creature that steps towards her. It’s almost as though the female is trying to be scary, as though she’s trying to make the bones of her legs rattle and shake. And yet, Sloane does not fear her. Sloane knows no fear. Her entire life has been dictated by her ability to meander through life, navigating what life throws her. She cannot be fearful. She must press onward. And that is where her independence comes from.

Sloane explains to this stranger that she has a thirst and knowledge that knows no limits. She’s always been that one that has always been eager to learn. The topic of her learning is ever changing and no topic is left out. Sloane finds that this has made her well-rounded, that it has given her a platform to bond with any others who are eager to partake in her system of buying and selling secrets.

It was this stranger’s answer that has her looking up at the mare with a curiosity that knew no limits. She cannot help but wonder if this stranger simply thinks she’s going to put out for free. She was not a cheap whore working the corner. No. She was a mastermind of her craft – and such mastery came at a high cost. “You don’t honestly think I will simply tell you all my secrets. I don’t give away my information for free.” Her words are spoken in almost a mocking manner. One can sense the humor in her voice, that small laughter that’s hiding just beyond reach. Yes, she’s practically mocking the other, making fun of her in a sense that’s not entirely upfront, but more discreet and hidden. Could she see past her words and find the teasing?

Eyes move from the other towards the ground, watching as the dead flowers begin to pool at the stranger’s feet. There’s something ironic about the death that pools there, and yet, it does nothing to Sloane except make the corners of her lips pull back in a smirk. She finds this whole encounter amusing and yet…strangely romantic. It was a shame the two were not in some sort of twisted romantic relationship. Then perhaps this could have been classified as a date – a death date.

@wormlust

Truthfully, Sloane thinks the mare before her is just downright strange. The way she tries to creep, the way her bones creek, and the way her voice sounds. It’s like she’s entered the wrong Halloween movie and this creature is after her. This creature wants her and she can feel it. And yet, it does not scare her. She looks onward with a look that almost bleeds curiosity. She is curious about this mare. This mare might have skills that she wants to possess.

Eyes watch her as her wings begin to beat, her body rising higher. She thinks this might be a scare tactic, but she remains still. Her body is poised and held high, confidence bleeding from everywhere. Eyes look down briefly to see the dead flowers and she cannot help the smile that pulls at the corners of her lips. This whole meeting was fascinating.

And then she speaks and it draw’s Sloane’s gaze upward. She listens to the mare, listens to how she swears she can read her secrets. She claims she can write a eulogy of the mare and Sloane grins. “I should like to hear your eulogy.” It was something she might never get to hear again. For when she dies, there will be no one to mourn her loss. No one will care enough to write a eulogy about her. In fact, no one will care to offer her body any sort of respect. She’ll be left to rot or be scavenged by other animals. There would be nothing glorious about her death.

But there’s that single question, if Sloane would like to learn. There’s something that draws her curiosity to the rising mare. Sloane is all about learning because honestly, it might perhaps pay off in the end. But learning always came at a price. “What would it cost me?” Nothing was free. Sloane had learned this from a very young age. Something told Sloane that she would not like the price the mare was asking for. Something about the rumble of her belly told her that this mare was out for blood. Sorry sugar, Sloane doesn’t pay with blood.

@wormlust