She was so accustomed to being busy that the sudden free time was an unwelcome surprise.

The shadow-mare harbored no hard feelings towards her captor, the giant snake. He himself had admitted that he hadn't a reason to bring her here, other than to follow the orders of the sultans. And she wasn't one to enter into a losing battle, as any fight with an oversized serpent was sure to be. One look at him assured the viewer that his massive coils could crush the bones of any mortal being in mere seconds, and that was without even taking into account the hypnotic quality of those poisonous green eyes. She wondered if it was an inherent trait, or if it was magic - if it were the former, perhaps she could persuade him to teach her how to use her own malicious orbs that way. Regardless, he was not a skyrat, like those sultans that he answered to; nor was he a hornless vermin, fit for naught but slavery. No, he was a creature all his own, and had gained a certain respect from the dark fae. After all, given his druthers, he had made it perfectly clear that he would stay out of their business.

She wondered what kind of alliance the sultans must have made with the serpent, to have him doing their dirty work for them. She snorted, disgust and anger evident. How dare they send a serpentine servant to take her? Did they fear her so much that they would not approach her, in which case they were simply horrible leaders? Or did they underestimate her so much that they refused to sully themselves to take her, in which case they were simply ignorant? It made her furious, the way her mind wound in circles, revisiting the same thoughts over and over, unable to break the vicious cycle of vehemence. What she wouldn't give to give them all a piece of her mind! And she would, one day, for suddenly the Throat and its inhabitants had leaped to the top of her shit list, sitting amicably with the Edge in her quest for vengeance.

A familiar scent caught and held in her nostrils, and she swung her maw towards the source. The silver-marked, scarred unicorn stood on the other side of the lake - the oasis, she amended with a sneer - and, as Psyche watched, plunged her cranium into the cool liquid. The shadow-mare wondered how long Elizabeth had gone without water, how long she had been held prisoner here. Had they been taken at the same time? By the same wretched snake? She set off in a confident trot, pistons seeming to claim the ground that they marked with deep scores of prints, acting as though she owned the place. Well, she would, one day. They wouldn't get away with stealing the Crux and one of her beloved Corporals. As angry as the jackal was that her cohort had managed to get herself captured, she was relieved that she was not alone. Surely the pair of them would be more than capable of escape.

"Lovely to see you again, darling," she greeted the taller fae upon arrival. Elizabeth looked none the worse for wear, another blessing. And in truth, the jackal preferred this mare over the majority of her kinfolk. Being stuck here with, say, Deimos, with his death-magic and silence, would have been unbearable; or Valentine, who pined after her like a lovesick colt, might have driven her mad, for the facade that she had chosen to portray would have to have been upheld even here. Oh, the messes she got herself into. "I do hope that our hosts are treating you well?" The words were spat with venom, hatred sparking in her eyes. Elizabeth would understand, of that she was sure. They were two peas in a pod, the pair of them. The Throat had certainly picked the wrong mares to throw together.

[W/C | 661]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.