Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dirt kicked up beneath his hooves as he ascended, beating an uneven pattern across the ground in muted thumps while he rustled his wings and tucked them against his sides. It had been a lazy day thus far, mostly skimming over the treetops and pausing to break only when hungry; he was searching for new lands to explore, more out of idle curiosity than a burning need to find someplace to belong. His family remained safe at home, as ever, and though it bothered him to leave his sister unattended for long periods of time, he knew she was in good hands.

He craned his neck, ears flicking toward the sounds of cooing and rustling; obviously he wasn't alone. It was to be expected, however, as he'd landed near a line of trees and most land-dwelling beasts found shelter beneath them, whether from storms or other creatures. He would have simply continued on but for the next thing to catch his attention: the scent of blood on the air. Fresh, too; interesting.

He knew that he could be remarkably annoyed if someone happened upon a kill of his, but his level of personal hypocrisy certainly didn't stop him from changing direction and following the scent. He was in a mood that day, easy-humored, and interested to see if he would find a like-minded individual to converse with.

The scene that he happened upon was a strange one, but not entirely unheard of; a mare with features similar to his, curled up on the ground with her kill in front of her, apparently... playing with it? As a colt he'd done the same, once or twice, but never simply for affection of the dead thing. His eyes narrowed slightly, one eyebrow hiking as he examined her.

"If you play with your food," he said, tail swishing behind him lazily, "It will get cold."

"It's not a toy," he said after a moment, his brows furrowing. Perhaps he had been right to draw a parallel between this mare and himself as a foal; she seemed child-like, almost. If children were cruel, anyhow.

He watched as she rose and stretched tired limbs, well able to sympathize even if he didn't show it; Azazel spent much of his time in motion, so when he allowed himself a resting period, his muscles and joints protested if he was idle too long. He had always led an active lifestyle, however, and that would never change, even if he had to suffer stiffness from time to time.

Her hostility was met with calm indifference, he merely inclining his head as he watched her hide her prize from him. The rabbit was barely worth fighting over, had he been inclined to steal her prize -- he wasn't; Azazel hunted for himself and only himself, and never more than he could eat -- but he got the impression that this mare simply wasn't entirely present. She was living in the present, certainly, but there was something off about the way she spoke that had him reassessing her.

His lip curled back, showing a full set of strong, sharp teeth, not very much unlike her own. "A dead thing can't be happy, and whether or not it goes cold has nothing to do with how you feel about it." His words, delivered flatly, nevertheless held no malice. He was merely explaining. "I won't take it from you."

He flexed his wings at his sides, eyes roving over her figure, taking in the similarities. Like the mare he'd met when he was young... the coloring was different, but her features much the same. Intriguing. "I've no need to steal someone else's dinner. I'm quite capable of procuring my own."

Azazel found himself feeling pity for the mare before him, not a sentiment he generally humored. She drifted between lucidity and not, though that might have had more to do with the meal than anything; he knew he became irritable and uneasy when he hadn't eaten in some time, but he'd never quite lost touch with reality. The idea of her fasting until she addled her brains didn't seem appropriate, either, given the glee with which she tore into her meal, but there was obviously something there.

He drew a hoof along the ground, digging a deep line into the earth as he watched her. She was like no one he had met prior, but that wasn't all that unexpected; Azazel didn't humor the company of others all that often, being largely antisocial and easily annoyed by their antics. His own company, and that of his family's, tended to be infinitely preferable.

"It's none of your concern why I am here." Glowing green eyes looked past her, tracing the line of trees to see if there was further company, and then flicked back. "Though, I will say, if you don't want intrusions on your meal time, you ought to dispose of the meat faster."