farsickness | (no subject)

WHO: Maleficent and OTA!
WHEN: arrival and the weeks following, mostly day time hours
WHAT: haven't you ever wanted to meet a fairy??
WHERE: Gazin, Vasari Forest
WARNINGS: will add as necessary

ARRIVAL

It could be an illusion, for how seamlessly the world warps around her. One moment, Maleficent is watching Udo with the children through the flames, and the next— she is no longer in a world new and familiar. It would be impossible for her to realize exactly the catalyst for this change, even for all she knows of magic. How could she possibly link her longing for another place, a simpler time, with this sudden displacement?

She stands and her robe falls long around her, the black of her hair gone loose around her shoulders, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar landscape.

This is not the Moors. She would know it immediately. It is not any of the surrounding kingdoms that skirt the edges of her land. Maleficent spreads her fingers and reaches out with her senses, digs in to the earth and reaches into the wind, hunting out an essence she recognizes— and while she certainly finds magic in this place, none of it feels like the kind she was born in to.

Abruptly, she moves, both hands pulling up in a flutter of green magic. Her outfit morphs, the casual drapery she'd been wearing changing into something black and form fitting. Her hair disappears under a matching black wrapping, her horns standing tall; everything about her new appearance radiates intimidation, a visual warning of a creature not to be trifled with.

She beats her wings, once, then twice, then leaps up into the air and flies high— high enough that she can hover well above the tree tops and look around at this new land. At a distance, she might look like an especially large bird.

GAZIN

She approaches Gazin still dressed all in black, her wings trailing behind her, each step preceded by the soft tok of a freshly grown walking stick touching the ground before her. The citizens seem to teeter between two responses— some linger and stare, and others scurry away as soon as she does as much as glance at them.

She doesn't look particularly friendly, even as she stops at vendors selling jewellery, or trading in cloth, or flowers. Despite that, when she opens her mouth, she almost sounds overly interested. There's something unnerving about it, like every question she asks could have a wrong answer, even something so simple as: "Where did you happen to find such lovely wares?"

The only place she seems to watch while keeping a far distance, is the blacksmithy. Her eyes gleam, inhuman, as she watches from a good distance the smelting process. The clang of iron on iron ringing clear to her ears, even though it is mostly drowned by the bustle of the city.

VASARI FOREST

The idea she might stay in Gazin is downright laughable. Despite the fact she boldly circles the city to gather information, the possibility she would live amidst those humans is ludicrous. The forest is much more familiar to her, even with the danger of all manner of magical creature abound.

But Maleficent feels a much closer kinship to the Harpies and Tree Folk and every other inhuman thing than she does to any others in this place. In fact, anyone that might be hunting in this wood after such monsters might just find themselves instead confronted with Maleficent herself instead.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It?"

It's almost possible to hear the quotation marks around the single word. Maleficent's head is still canted, her eyes still sharp and focused. The fact is, she already knows what this woman is here doing. She's hunting, though what precisely she's after is anyone's guess.

There are, of course, all manner of woodland creature here. Maleficent may be a protector of all things inhuman, but there is a natural cycle to things. Death comes to any prey animal in time, and this she does not take issue with.

Everything else, on the other hand...

The shadows nearly mask her huge wings, until the shift behind her, resettling their position with the soft sound of feathers moving over feathers.

"You know, the... metaphorical it," Beau responds. Her eyes track the woman and her wings, her body, trying to figure out where the shadows stop and she begins. Beau doesn't have her nightvision goggles on, otherwise she'd feel a tiny bit more confident in this scenario. But as it stands, she's only a little bit nervous, not enough to crack.

"Stroll. Hike. Hunt. Snack. Conversation. Sex. It."

Those are the biggest wings she's ever seen on a tiefling... more like a harpy.