The scent of the frosted daughter of her beloved is missed, covered in the spring smell of the grass that tickles at her dark nose, but the sound of her body and her hooves amidst the sea of green and the dark, rich soil cause the Lady’s head to rise but not her son’s. She is worried for him only a moment as her golden eyes search for the approaching figure and finds the rusty, snow covered young woman from her past, so recently returned not only once but twice. She smiles in greeting, though the other female does not; it makes Illynx wonder what crosses the brooding mind of the Basin’s lost daughter, her smile losing some of its vivacity as the daughter of Psyche comes to a halt and offers her greeting after eyeing the gold embellished babe at her side.

Her grin returns and she nods playfully, not truly in agreement; it is more the motion of a woman in comfortable company. While the dove before her may not have much fondness for the golden one, she remembered her small and innocent, unstained by Mauja’s stupidity and Psyche’s hidden, feather soft heart. Above all, though, Illynx cared for her because she was the daughter of her dearest sister, and such a creature is to be praised and watched over, even when she seeks solitude in the snow.

The girl is like a phantom. She comes and goes as she pleases, invisible in the air. Illynx cannot watch her anymore than she can tell you when the rain will next fall. It’s the least she can do to be kind to her, when she is given the chance.

"I suppose," she adds with a chipper tone, "he is called Rikyn." The babe had detached himself, having realized someone was here the moment Sno spoke and having quietly been peering about the mare’s chocolate shoulder at the stranger ever since, shy and strange in foreign company as his father. It makes her smile all the more true as she gestures back to him, her pretty gilded boy.

She looks back to her niece, not wanting to breach the tender beginning of their conversation with her concerns over her well being; her reaction to the appearance of her father hadn’t been a good one, to be sure, and it hadn’t settled well with the Lady ever since. She worried for the girl, mostly because she knew that her sire was as fool hardy as a drunk bat when it came to most decisions and Psyche was barely emotionally stable enough to rule herself, much less raise a child.

But it presses on her, these thoughts, and she wants to help her, for her darling Empress. She just does not know how.

"You seem well," she lies, smile never faltering, mask never slipping. She’s so used to asking the right questions to lead to her desired outcome that they trickle forth flawlessly and, while her intent is to probe her emotional well being, there is truth in the physical aspect. The girl is strong and clever, apparent by her solitary existence and nearly flawless frame, unscathed by mishaps or wanton battles.