[SWP] pride, strength, honor

[Shrike]

like a fresh cut flower promises sure to wither up It was not the first time Shrike had heard the voice of a god. To be sure, this one sounded nothing like Fantome, the god of air who had so arrogantly invited her to make a deal. His voice had been little more than a man’s. There was no denying the strangeness (she would not think divinity) of this one, and like the others she made her way to the courtyard to find the source. When a golden mare with an impressive scar shouldered her way through, Shrike moved aside without a word. She watched from across the crowd as Tieran likewise parted the crowd, and her gaze followed the mare’s movements until she reached the center. There was the hawk, too Other to be anything but the speaker (it reminded Shrike of a riftlands-thing, a similarity that made her distrust it even more) but it was Seraphina that the medicine hat watched most closely. She had not yet come across the desert queen. Shrike would never bow – not to a god, and not to a god’s mouthpiece – and she appreciated the silver mare’s air of cool politeness. Maybe these were a people she could understand, their walls and clothing and peculiar customs aside. But she did not linger long before slipping away from the outskirts of the crowd and making her way westward out of the city. It was time to investigate these gods – and there was a part of her that knew (though she dared not hope) that if a certain black unicorn was also in this strange land, nothing could keep her away from such a challenge. ooc: lil hi-there-bye-there to show she was here SHRIKE