[open] (any) thing could happen

[Fiorina]

At what point was Fiorina was supposed to feel as though she got the whole “blindness” thing figured out? She was too proud, too angry, to just give up entirely so she continued fumbling along hoping that eventually she would feel at least some sliver at peace with this horrid turn of events. Most of what kept her going was the idea of being able to fly on great, black-feathered wings once this was all over. It was a good thing she could survive off vegetation and she wasn’t completely carnivorous like other members of her family. Small blessings. But just because she could survive off grass didn’t mean her stomach didn’t hunger for something with flesh. Which was a growing pain that had been gnawing at her for the last few days. So now she stood quietly in the Forest, useless eyes closed as though she were sleeping - though mediating would be more accurate. This was not her first attempt at hunting blind. She had failed already, more times than she cared to admit, but was ready to try again. Night was approaching, she was pretty sure - the sounds of the forest shifting to nocturnal and the air was a little cooler on what parts of her skin showed underneath the armour. Fiorina is waiting for the sound of any animals to come closer to her, but none do. They give her a suspiciously wide berth, flinching away from where she stands in the shadows. Little does she know it’s because, somehow, someway, she is now crowned with two horns of fire that curve upwards from behind her ears - loudly pronouncing her presence in the growing darkness.

[Oceane]

a little white light in a
sea gone black

≋

Discomfort sits in her chest, weighted down by an uncertainty that carries her mood down further and further until there is nothing to do but remove herself from the source of her skepticism, if only for a short while. It's the first time since Alcinder's kidnapping that Oceane has truly felt the desire to temporarily remove herself from the confines of Loess, to dip away momentarily from diplomacy and simply explore. Soran bids her safe travels when she informs him of her destination, and she leaves the scar-faced stallion and their yearling son to a quiet day alone.

Numerous seasons have come and gone since the last time she had meandered the vaguely familiar bailiwick of the Forest and memories of its petrichor call to her. Luckily, this sudden desire to visit the quiet woodland corresponds with an earlier springtime shower, and within the dewy dusk Oceane travels the shadows of the Forest. The moistened bark and pine needles cause her nostrils to flare, and its with a contented sigh that she ushers the scent from her nose, only to repeat the act once more.

Despite the impending darkness, the Forest is relaxing. She can hear the quiet conversations muttered and murmured by animals within the foliage and perched upon the still-wet tree boughs. They talk of normal things: the best places to find food, the development of their own younglings, the easy-going minutiae of everyday life. Oceane enjoys her zoolingualism mostly for this reason ─

It can be impossible to remember the lives that exist around her until she allows herself moments like these.

In her melancholy, she is drawn to the nearest light. The moon's rays shine through the intertwined tree boughs above her, but it's not this silvered glistening on the damp ground that calls to her ─ instead, it's the warmth of a nearby fire. Only when she draws near does Oceane realize that the fire is tied to the dual horns of a smokey black horse-slash-xenomorph.

“Hello there,” she greets the other woman as the light of her horns splash across Oceane's opaline face. She notices the blackness in the stranger's eyes as her flames flicker within them and lets her gaze linger there, “I've never met anyone with flames attached to their horns before.” The observation, powdered with intrigue, is murmured quietly before she turns her gaze to the Forest around them. “What brings you to the Forest?”

@[Fiorina]
“”

n | r

[Fiorina]

Regrettably, the prey that approaches Fiorina isn’t the sort she’s ever tried to eat. She’s got a little too much of her father’s horse-ness to her brain and not enough of the monster to ever consider eating her own kind. This is regrettable for two reasons. One, because she is hungry for flesh and would have preferred a meal over conversation. Two, because the murmured observation about flaming horns is the most ridiculous thing Fiorina has ever heard and this mare should be eaten for her crimes. Fiorina’s ears flick backwards before she tilts her head around her, as though checking to see if they were alone but she can’t hear anyone else nearby. Fiorina stands there, haloed in flame and with cold anger in her useless eyes, and thinks that she’s pretty sure she would notice if she was on fire. So she turns her attention back to where the voice came from - those dark eyes narrowing and unfocused as she bites out a response. “Are you fucking blin--” Oh that’s right Fiorina, you’re the one who is blind.  “Are you stupid? I don’t have flaming horns.” Did it sound like a cool thing to have? Absolutely. But she was not currently in the mind to entertain that fact. Her prehensile, knife-tipped tail flicks behind her like an agitated cat as she answers the question posed - wondering when it became common practice to ask a complete stranger why she was where she was. Why did it matter? “I came here for a meal.” And she grins without any joy, showing off her gleaming canines. Not as impressive as the rows of fangs of her mother and grandmother, sure, but enough to make the vague threat. “But the bunnies and little fawns here are spooked too easily. Probably have your stomping hooves to thank for that.”

@[Oceane]

[Oceane]

a little white light in a
sea gone black

≋

With the help of the moon and the flames atop the stranger's head, Oceane is able to recognize the woman's familiar lineage. It's not an immediate thought as her amber eyes lay themselves upon the woman, or even a sudden one granted to her like the powering of a bulb. Instead, it comes slowly, building momentum in her mind and tugging forth memories she had purposefully rendered long-lost until finally it clicks in her head.

She had spent much of her time in Pangea avoiding Anaxarete's hellhounds. Quite thankfully, her encounters with them had been few and far between, but she would often watch from afar as they tore across the wastelands, their movements more slippery and silent than a natural equine's could ever be. Oceane remembers the way they would click to each other, and she ponders now, as the sightless woman tosses verbal barbs at her, if she, too, can speak that alien language. “Must have been a trick of the light,” Oceane muses with a grin while watching the way the flames flick atop the xenomorph's head, deciding she has neither the motivation or desire to convince the stranger of something she cannot see.

The silver glow of the moon catches on the sharp, prehensile tail that flicks about with agitation, drawing the woman's momentary attention (is she far enough away to avoid that sharp blade?) before her golden gaze returns to the woman's face. She's greeted by a display of whetted canines - a threat she recognizes but is not entirely disturbed by, having dealt with far too much in the past year to back down at the first sign of malice.

“Perhaps,” she intones at the woman's accusation, “And for that, you have my apologies.” She laughs quietly and shifts her opaline body beneath the moon before flicking her ears away from the conversation at hand and to the small collection of wildlife who linger nearby, too smart and fearful to venture closer to the xenomorph with murderous incisors and flamed horns.

Their survival instincts are sufficient, removing the responsibility from Oceane to tell them to stay away. “You'll likely come up empty-handed tonight, even once I depart.” She lets out a quiet sigh, shuffles the wings habitually at her sides, “Maybe when we meet again in the future, you'll feel more open to casual conversation and I'll feel more open to beckoning the wildlife closer than ushering them away.”

@[Fiorina]
“”

n | r

[Fiorina]

It is not a lot of fun to snipe comments at someone who does not shoot insults back. It is a little fun - of course - but it’s not the sort of entertainment that can last. And although Fiorina cannot see the grin after the remark about how the fire must have been a trick of the light - it does not take much of an imagination to see it there anyway. Fiorina scowls at the comment that she would likely come up empty, even after this stranger left. Probably because of these “fire horns” she apparently has now, right? It seems laughable. But then her ears catch the sound of rustling feathers and her focus snaps to attention. In the flickering light of her horns, it would be evident that her eyes are useless but her head is turned fully towards her now and her ears are pricked. Well alright damn, Fiorina was curious. She doesn’t even remember the tail end of the comment - something about meeting up in the future - so she doesn’t pretend to try to reply to it. The subject change was going to be abrupt, sure, but even so she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t think of anything else to say except what she wanted to ask most. “Do you have wings?” She speaks it quietly and though her voice is never quite soft or gentle, it does not come with the same “fuck off” spines it had been laced with moments ago. It seems incredibly odd, though perhaps a little perfect, to find someone with wings after she had her sight stolen while she quests for those very things. “What’s it like to fly?”

@[Oceane]

[Oceane]

a little white light in a
sea gone black

≋

There would have been hardly a minute of lost sleep between them had their conversation concluded there. As Oceane prepares herself to leave and rustles the feathered appendages that rest against her sides, her gilded eyes notice the sudden shift in her new acquaintance. She pivots slightly to leave, though hesitantly, and finds that perhaps there is hope for their conversation after all.

She remains poised for departure but does not yet take that first step, instead swiveling a singular ear in the xenomorph's direction before nodding in affirmation ─ and then, remembering ─ “Yes.” Born with the ability to fly, the extremities that allow her to do just that have not felt like special things to her for quite some time. They simply exist, and sometimes, when they are not in use, she even forgets she possesses them.

But the woman's second question ─ there is weight to that one. Genuine curiosity exists within the confines of inquiry and Oceane wonders if it is something the woman has dreamt of for some time. “Freeing,” she finally says as a small smile twists at the corners of her mouth. She had escaped from the deserts of Nau-Aib with her wings, had taken to the skies and never looked back. “To be able to leave─” She stops herself from continuing at the threat of sounding cliche. “It's exciting. And sometimes it feels forbidden to be able to view everything from that far above the ground, which makes it even better.”

She snorts quietly in amusement before falling silent for a few moments, her curious eyes watching the fire-wielding woman before her.

“What is your name?”

@[Fiorina]
“”

n | r

[Fiorina]

A small, almost inaudible sigh escapes Fiorina at the description of being able to fly. She can do so much, has been born with extraordinary features, but to fly is a dream that has haunted her for some time. She tells herself that it is because she will be an even fiercer predator from the skies - and yet there are some simple joys she craves. She wonders what it would feel like to soar beneath the stars, to feel the breeze between feathers, to dive and skim the surface of water with one of her hooves or the tip of her tail. That would be extraordinary. The few silent moments they share are spent daydreaming and Fiorina forgets that she was annoyed - a rare peaceful expression softening her armoured features as much as possible. “I’m Fiorina. And you?” And then, because she feels like she needs to explain her completely random interest in the rustling of feathers, she adds - “I went to the mountain, seeking wings, and the fairies stole my sight instead.” Later, maybe, Fiorina will wonder if there will be consequences for these words - but she’s thought far worse about the meddlesome mountain-dwellers. “Apparently I need to learn some humility first, can you imagine that?” She says this with a bit of a laugh (she knows what she's like well enough), tossing her head and causing the firelight to dance a little in the shadows around them.

@[Oceane]

[Oceane]

a little white light in a
sea gone black

≋

The xenomorph woman is silent for a few moments after Oceane requests her name, though the Loessian Queen can see that it is merely because she is lost in her thoughts and desires. She waits, comfortably silent, and takes the opportunity to further inspect the flickering horns and impressive armor her new companion possesses. Every once in a while, the moon flashes against a whetted predator's tail.

“Oceane,” she offers in return despite the brief moment of reluctance that grips her. Will she recognize the name from stories shared by her kin? “It's nice to meet you, Fiorina.” But the moment passes as the xenomorph returns their conversation to flight, and Oceane forces her muscles to loosen and relax so that she may better enjoy this nighttime jaunt.

Fiorina speaks casually about the loss of her sight, the words accented by short laughter, and though Oceane can't help but to mirror the sentiment, she is still curious - “The fairies intend to give your sight back, right?” She has yet to visit the Mountain or lay amber eyes upon the fairies of Beqanna. Partly, she is fearful of what power they may possess - but mostly, the stories she hears remind her of the arithmancers in Nau-Aib, and the horrors they had committed are not ones the opaline woman cares to revisit.

“Perhaps,” she fumbles for a second, her inquiry accented with the smile that finds her lips, “When the fairies do finally give you your wings, you'd like to make a day out of exploring the skies with me? It's been a long while since I flew with someone who was not yet desensitized to it.”

@[Fiorina]
“”

n | r