Bloody Creature Poster Girl

[Librette]

As a child you would wait, and watch from far away. But you always knew you'd be the one to work while they all play. Librette knows a warrior when she sees one. The chestnut mare is a warrior herself, although she's got fewer scars than one might expect. Some of that has to do with having been dead once, and then revived – it's surprising how one's appearance improves when one is rebuilt after a long period of decay, really. But it's also because she's just very good at what she does. When she spots the black mare in the field, she doesn't hesitate in the slightest. She can see at a glance that the mare knows her way around a fight, and that is enough to tell her that the woman would be a great fit for the Valley. While not all horses there would kill on a whim, they're always looking for strong warriors. And lately she's felt silence slipping across her home, and it worries her. She will never allow the Valley to die. And so she makes her way toward the woman, her hooves rustling the soft grass. She can tell that the mare is alert, and so she makes no effort to make an especially large amount of noise as she moves. Just as Librette would know if someone was coming, this woman will know. She sees a stallion approaching, smells the Chamber on him, sees his battle scars, and respects him immediately. She nods to the stallion and then the unknown mare as she comes to a halt, arriving just in time to hear the stallion introduce himself and ask the mare's name. Librette herself is a mass of contradictions. Her form and her chestnut coat are unremarkable; they are neither beautiful nor ugly, they are simply there. Her eyes are brown, but not a rich, beautiful brown. Her mane and tail are neither long nor short, and are neither silken nor matted. There are only two distinctive features about the girl: large red-tailed hawk wings, currently tucked against the sides of her barrel, and a white scar that slashes across her chest, right above her heart. The wings are resplendent, red and gold and radiant, entirely incongruous against the rest of her. And the white slash is unnaturally white, a stark contrast to the dull reddish color of her chestnut coat. She flicks her tail across her haunches, her gaze steady on the other mare. "Hello." her voice is rough, but not gruff. She's a battle-mare, the sweet tones of the diplomats are a little beyond her. "Librette, from the Forsaken Valley." She greets, straight and to the point like any good warrior. "It's not often I find another warrior out here." and she is quiet. She's no one's idea of a diplomat. Don't weep for me LIBRETTE Because this will be the labor of my love. Image copyright FFFiiiAA