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
