It wasn't the most ideal place to be. That was for sure. Zephyiote's nose crinkled as a silent snarl tugged at her features. But she was too mad to go back. Blinded by rage, it would be hard to even fly straight, she knew. It wasn't like she wanted to go back though. At least...not yet. The memory was still too fresh in her mind. Those leering, menacing eyes back at the temple. Nasty, whispered words uttered behind her back. Thing they didn't think she heard. Hatred. Hatred boiled in her veins. And that's why she had left. She wouldn't let it get to her. She refused to. She wouldn't let them drive her to do something regretable. She sat perched on a mountain peak. The air was cold and thin, snow gathered around her. The immediate area a cruel, cold wasteland. Not a single blade of grass sared to poke its head through the veil of white. That was just as well. Zephyiote didn't want to think that anything suffered up here besides her. For all her short temper and harsh words, she could prove quite compassionate for the suffering of others.
Her wings fluttered, as she stretched them, before once again pulling them up close to her, pressed close, like a blanket. Not like she was cold. Her inner fire kept her from chill. The same fire she could call forth as a burning breath. An ear twitched, as if dispelling some imaginary fly. And the world was quiet. The quietest she'd ever heard, or rather, not heard, in a long time. Zephyiote had excellent hearing. What with four ears and all. And when it was quite for her, it meant silence, pure and unadulturated. She enjoyed it. It helped to calm frazzled nerves. After all, it wasn't like anyone would bother her here. Right...?
