She hated this place. Being blind, or at least nearly-so, made navigation impossible: rather than the graceful, soundless flight with which she should have blessed Cetus, she was instead trudging through the mud and muck beneath.

It wasn't too cold; but it was gross. Mucky, smelly, sticky.

"Uuugh," she said, for probably the fifth time in an hour, lifting one four-taloned foot from the mud and trying to see it. She couldn't; past the green haze of her gemstone, everything just seemed dark.

Who decided that this cave could stay open..? she thought, bitterly disgusted. I think once I have the power, I'll close it off for good. Or throw undesirables in here, she added to herself, disdainfully. She trudged on, tailfeathers mired in black, and after a few more moments, paused to look around again. She was utterly unaware of the arrival of Kethri above; if she couldn't see her own foot, she certainly wasn't noticing the other avian above.

Hecate sighed again, the long-suffering sound of someone who had been through terrible hardship (and not at all the mild irritation of someone who was just a tad muddy), and aimed her magicka at a spot just before and above her in the mist. A light, surely, would help her to orient? And then maybe she could find her way back out of this hole. Though she focused, nothing at all came, earning another, louder "UUUGH!" from her in response.

The first touch of voice to ear-tufts startled her, and she might--might--have been frightened. Certainly, her heart jumped in her throat, and she herself jumped up, and sideways, wings half-spread as if to take flight, herself.

She saw, rather than heard, the brief blur of white as something drew closer; she did hear the slight scratch of talons on branch. 'If you don't want to get all muddy, why don't you just fly?' came the voice, and Hecate, startled, opened her black beak to explain that she was blind. 'Are you broken?' The tone was not a friendly one, and Hecate felt her own brand of nastiness brewing back up in her. Gemstone-coated eyes narrowed as she resettled wings and ruffled feathers.

"Broken-? No," and she immediately paused to try and draw up a wisp, directly in front of the other one's face. Ostensibly, to illuminate what Hecate wanted to look at. Realistically, to shove a light in the rude stranger's face. "And what about you? Are you broken, to ask something like that?" she asked sweetly. "Did someone raise you without teaching you what's acceptable behavior? -No, I suppose not. No matter--I don't blame you. It's hardly your fault you were hatched with such a... disadvantage." 'Spiteful bitch' was in her tone, masked by the false front of 'good breeding' that Hecate couldn't claim. No one had raised her, after all.

But she didn't go around insulting strangers without reason-!

Hecate studied, as best she could, the figure up above. It was... white, yes; the wisp showed something birdlike, she thought, though mostly, past the green blur of her emerald, she couldn't make it out. After a good, long moment, she drew the wisp back toward herself, keeping it hovering helpfully close at hand.

Eyes rolled behind the gemstone. Which was kind of irritating, actually--scratchy--but oh well.

"Those are antlers, not a crown, darling," Hecate answered, again in that sickly-sweet, sarcastic tone. The comments about being muddy, vermin, prickled her pride and her eyes narrowed as she responded. "If you think fighting like hatchlings is crude, perhaps you shouldn't open your conversations with insults..? In any case, I've no need to lower myself by speaking with you further."

Hecate turned away. Now... she had to trudge off through the mud, which wasn't exactly a nice, haughty exit. She could fly... which would be--well. She was blind. She could try to use the wisp to guide her, at least, but there was a good chance she'd just smack into a tree trunk in the misty dark.

But pride was a terrible thing, and after a moment she leapt up, wings spreading, in an attempt to simply depart this unpleasant stranger's dubious company.

A few wingbeats took her silently airborne, the wisp bobbing ahead of her, and she winged her way past one tree, then another--and then a muffled thump as chest impacted branch, and over she went. She tumbled, talons grabbing--and failing to grip--at something to steady her; and a moment later she was scrambling up from a face-down landing in the mud, some fifty yards from where she'd started.

Her head hurt. Her body was aching and dizziness sent her reeling as she struggled back upright. Mud coated her front, her face, and burned at her eyes, slicking her gemstone and getting rather stuck there. To add insult to injury, she could hear Kethri further... well, insulting her, from behind. 'Maybe you should stop being so easy to insult, then.' Hecate huffed at this mockery, trying not to cry out at the pain; instead she hid it, pulling herself straight and stepping off into the swamp again.

Her pride was as hurt as her body: a shame born of her own arrogance. She wanted nothing more than to fly at this much smaller bird, to tear at it, to send her wisp hurtling toward it in a blast of flame, but that would be... uncouth. Instead she simply stepped away.

'I hope you realize that your light doesn't quite know what owl proportions are.' For a moment she was going to ask what that was supposed to mean, and then she realized that the bird still didn't know she was blind. She must think the light's trying to lead me, she thought, and some form os savage triumph came at least at this: the fact that Hecate still had her little secret, that the other bird--now on to making fun of her tail-feathers--hadn't figured this out. And then it was offering her help. Help-! Ha. As if she wanted anything to do with this bird after its attitude!

"I neither want nor need your help, thank you very much," Hecate responded primly, the bitterly savage thought I'd sooner drown in this filthy swamp snarling through her mind.

She turned, pushing blindly on into the murky mist, doing her best to put distance between her and the other--even if she had to walk to do so.

Hecate ignored the owl, now. Anger was blossoming up, red hot, and threatening violence but for now she kept it on a tight leash.

And again, attempted simply to depart. She took wing, flapping into the trees, and hit a hillock--a rise in the muddy earth--not far ahead. But she was fuming, now. She studiously ignored Kethri, trudging on through the mud, and just hoped that the little brat... left.