She had been living life on the sufferance of what little she’d learned of her mother and the wild itself. She had been living life for the thrill of killing the hunters that had thought her easy prey -- though she was usually much better than what she had just allowed. She should never have let her guard down enough to not have seen the signs, scented or seen it. She was slipping after so long on a stationary populace island chain. Sure, new elements sometimes crossed, but it was not common and she was finding the lulls to be dangerous to her---
She looks up to where an on-looker had chosen to come and meet her and admire her impromptu handiwork. Slender as reeds, black as night - she can admire the make of the mare with not much more than a light perusal of a second’s glimpse. Her once white legs were socked now with red and splatter, but she finds that in the presence of another… well, she was too proud to worry about the mess or the nerves. "That was magnificent," it should never have been necessary, and she is stuck on this, so she looks bemused by the undirected praise. She stepped aside so the mare could otherwise inspect the creature, snorting heavily to try and rid her nose of the stench of feline.
"It’s a good thing they don’t live in packs, you two made quite the racket." She lets her mouth quirk a little in amusement, thinking that perhaps the idea of a pack of these nemesis’ wouldn’t be unwelcome if she were prepared, or not alone in her fondness for destroying dangerous creatures. She is about to introduce herself, but her introduction is interrupted by a brilliant flash out of the corner of her eye. Apparently there had not been only one onlooker to her dire, but ended, situation.
He bugles, of course, a horse of his sex was prone to such self-aggrandized announcements of approach. The black mare had been more circumspect, but she supposed a mare needn’t project quite how worthy she was. It didn’t hurt that the self-assurance in there mingled with admiration and exultation. She was not immune to admiration, as Faolain had learned, for all that she had been confused by it considering her mediocre performance compared to former battles.
"I’ve never witnessed such a feat. My lady, the legends of my homeland are come to life in you, and yet even they do not do you justice." She notices in his tone and his expression, unabashedly plain to read, and she quirks a grin at the black mare for a moment before answering both their praise. "I would have done better to notice the cat before it caught a hold of me in the first place," but the tone she uses clearly tells them she appreciates the praise, all the same. "I have found life rather boring, though, so I supposed being taken by surprise has answered a prayer or two for something new."
Her dark head, snip aside, turns to the black mare as the stallion admires her a moment, drawn back when he interrupts her own intrigued glance with words. "I must admit, when I battled my way through the ocean, I never dreamed I’d be blessed with a welcome such as this. Any regrets I may have had of the life left behind were felled alongside the leonine beast. Save one, that is."
He was a flirt, but Cyrene was not so much immune to that as she might have wished. She lets a light chuckle pass her lips, the shudder that came after only typical for the relaxation of muscle and the burn-out of adrenaline. "I lament not having met either one of you sooner, but alas… Never-the-less, it is an honour to make your acquaintances now. I am Apollo."
"I am Cyrene," she offers, "I cannot say that I am as well-formed a flirt as you, but it is a pleasure to meet you both. Good company is a good way to relax the nerves after a fight like that one." Her voice is a rich alto, tone hinting at a terribly down-to-earth nature that did not flirt so well as her body might once convinced. She pointedly looks to the black mare, an ear kept trained on the stallion. "You must have thought to help me, being so close as you were. Thank you."