This girl is a gun, before you know it, it's done
And you'll be wishing that you crossed your fingers

arceline fears her time in the Peak is nearly over. Now more than ever she finds herself feeling like an outsider amongst her sisters, adrift in a sea of once familiar faces with nothing to buoy her but her own pride. The warm welcome that had once been extended to her is now a cold shoulder. Her call to action in the face of the Lagoon General's death had done naught but tear a chasm between her and her sisters. With election season upon them she could feel that gap widening, a yawning space where once there had been camaraderie. Even if her sisters had disagreed with her in the past, there was always an understanding that they were all on the same side.

Now, she wasn't so sure. Each of them - with the exception of steadfast Serenity - seemed opposed to the direction in which she was choosing to lead the Peak. Khar'pern's name was on her sister's lips and she had a sense of foreboding dread that she was soon to be replaced by the rose grey mare. It would be better to bow out now, on her own terms, rather than face the humiliation of being deposed. It wasn't as if she lacked places to go - it would be easy to slip away to Salem and get to work fulfilling her end of the bargain she'd made with Asmodeus. No doubt Antoinette would be disappointed to leave the Peak, and the swim would be a challenge for little Nicolette, but it was doable, and frankly becoming more tempting with each passing day.

A weary sigh heaved its way from Marceline's chest. Desperate for anything else to occupy her mind, she set her eyes on the border. A patrol was as good a way as any to pass the time as any - anything to get her out from under the scrutinizing gazes of the other Peak mares. The air felt thick as Marceline made her way down the mountainside and towards the Falls. Always prideful, the spotted woman keeps her head held high as she disappears into the treeline, her lithe frame vanishing amidst stately pines and tangled underbrush.

The sweet sound of birdsong is her only company for some time as she ambles her way down one of the overgrown deer paths that spiderwebs across the Peak, her sights set firmly south. By the time she reaches the border her coat is slicked with sweat. The summer sun hangs high in the sky, filtering through the verdant canopy and washing the forest floor in warm freckles of light. The soft burble of water draws her into a small flower-pocked clearing bisected by a quaint creek.

The cool water bubbling against her lips and sliding down her throat provides welcome reprieve from the heat that presses uncomfortably against each inch of her skin. What is less welcome is the sound of snapping twigs and the approaching thump of hoofbeats from across the clearing; Marceline's head lifts sharply from the creek, her ears flitting back as she scans the treeline. "I swear if you're another Lagoon thug come to harass us again..." she threatens by way of greeting to whomever it was who was intruding upon her quiet time.

(OOC: Set just after elections/nominations begin but before Marcy has officially issued her abdication notice.)