She blends. It is a skill studied and perfected, long hours of learning what to do to blend even in a herd of galaxy-colored foals. Compared to her foster-siblings, Sloene had been plain; no magics, no funny colors, not excessively tall or short or fat or anything. The draining of magic from Beqanna had made it even easier, as suddenly so many more of them had been like Sloene. Plain. But they don’t blend. They’re off, so many of them, unused to being ‘normal’. Some have adjusted, some work hard to earn back their magics, and some are resentful and so obvious in their resentment.

Sloene avoids the resentful ones – they seem dangerous to her.

She’s dangerous enough by herself (Killer! Killer! Killer!) still rings in her head so many years later.

The grulla mare has blended so well that she doesn’t have a home yet, though she left her childhood home many years ago. Oh, she’s had casual friendships, traveled with others enough to not be a solitary psychopath, but she hasn’t made any lasting relationships. She hasn’t fulfilled the potential that Nera claimed to have seen in all of them, and it’s begun to weigh on her.

She supposes it’s time for a change.

She is never unaware of her surroundings – she is her only protection, and has been in the real wilds enough to know that a lack of awareness is a death sentence. So it is easy to track the lioness’ progress through the Field, even when she is hidden by legs or long grasses. After all, it may be Beqanna, but equines are unsettled by big cats anywhere, and so they move away from her. Some are startled, frightened, some merely move to stay out of the way, but they do move.

But while she is tracking the progress of the threat, she is also observing the approach of the dark colored mare, with strange eyes bright even from a distance, and she doesn’t actually put eyes on the feline until she is already close – too close for Sloene to get away, even if she chose the flight half of the flight-or-fight coin. The grulla mare tenses, silver eyes flickering towards the mare but settling quickly back on the feline because the threatening noise coming from the white lioness takes her way up the list of Sloene’s priority list than the quiet black mare.

And then the lioness is a mare. Sloene blinks, takes a deep breath as the girl-not-cat speaks to her, and allows herself to relax muscle by muscle. “Just as long as you’re not planning to eat us,” she responds, friendly voice betraying none of the anxiety her body had telegraphed. Now she can afford to look around, look back at the black mare, and she offers both mares a calm smile. “I’m Sloene,” the little mare says, the friendly smile staying put on her face because she knows it’s the part she is expected to play here; at least, it’s the part that Celeana is expecting her to play. Another look at the silent black mare tells her that the second mare isn’t looking for the same things.

But the black mare should be able to see the game, if she’s really looking for something else. And if not, the friendly supplicant seeking a new home should work for both of them.

Her life would be easier if she were not drawn to the complicated, the dark. She is rarely cruel without reason, not particularly mean, but she is drawn to these things in others, to the possibility of greatness that often accompanies it. She is similarly intrigued by the possibility of greatness in the very good, but they are so much harder to find, and so rarely reach their potential.

Silver eyes linger on the black mare for several moments beyond the normal, and she follows the gaze flickering towards somewhere – but it is not specific enough to pinpoint a homeland. The puzzle won’t be solved that easily – but a part of her is ok with that. It wouldn’t be a fun puzzle if it was that easy, after all. The words of the white mare draw her attention back to the present, and she appreciates the contrast between the two; no matter what lies inside, it hasn’t escaped her notice that on the outside, they are the embodiment of her own inner conflict. Sloene wonders if they are anything like the stereotypes she has imagined for them.

“I suppose, like many, I need a home.” she response to Celeana with another smile, including the black mare with a look and a chuckle. “I outgrew my childhood home, and with the Reckoning, I don’t really know where to settle. And I’m assuming, since you’re here, you both have homes in the new world.” she hesitates, looks at the black mare again. “I know the names. I can make an educated guess.” Celeana smells faintly of saltwater, of sand. “You smell of the sea, just a bit. So Ischia, perhaps, or Pangea, or Nerine.” And the black mare does not, but she smells of something else. Sloene frowns in concentration, taking a long moment to place the scent of sulfur – faint but unmistakable, even from a non-active volcano. “Tephra? That’s where the volcano is, right?” She had taken a grand tour, early on, but hadn’t ever picked a home.

She doesn’t really have a home preference. She doesn’t know much about any of the new lands – she’s not sure they’ve really had a chance to develop identities yet anyway – so she is relying on the two mares for reasons to pick a new place to live.

The mute, dark mare manages expressiveness even without a voice, which Sloene thinks is a grand feat in itself. It takes attention and effort on Sloene’s part as well, which would certainly make life difficult if she wanted to speak to someone who wasn’t willing to put in the effort to listen. But without any other skills, listening and blending and being smart were all things Sloene had learned as a child. After all, it’s not always what someone says that matters. Words are the easiest way to lie.

Celeana seems passionate about her home, but Sloene has to wonder – can the Amazons ever truly stop being the Amazons? Even without their Jungle? She smiles at the light colored mare, holding her green eyes as she talks about Nerine and offers Sloene a visit and a home, but her eyes consistently flicker back to the darker, nameless mare and the mystery that Tephra is.

Perhaps it is a flaw in her character that leads her to this decision, but she cannot resist the temptation of the unknown. “Thank you for the offer. Both offers.” a glance to either mare. “But I think I will go to Tephra.” she doesn’t offer an explanation, because she doesn’t have a real one. “But Celeana, I will certainly keep you and your sisters and Nerine in my thoughts for if I change my mind.” And she steps towards the dark mare, waiting for her to lead the way, and the unknown.