The painted girl nods submissively in response to Midas's command. Immediately she falls silent, stepping back into the crowd and breaking her gaze away from Rasta's small form. As long as she had spoken in defense of her friend, the shaman is at peace. Her mother would insist that all in her presence were family, but more and more Onni began to wonder what family meant to her, not her mother. The Illuminant has no particular knowledge of those around in this meeting, aside from the select few. Still, she held loyalty to the two stallions now standing as leads. Did this mean she needed to pledge familial bonds to all who followed them?

She did not know. She had never really thought about it.
Perhaps more than those that live here, Onni loved the land itself. The light of the Sun God, the bones buried within its sands, the spirits seeking refuge in the crimson sea; did she truly love the people of the Dragon's Throat?

This meeting left a bitter taste in her mouth, with the doubt and condescending words thrown from mouths of the ignorant and even the long-standing members. Her heart aches within her chest for a moment. Onni knows that she does not live here for the company of the inhabitants. She lives her because of the God of the Sun. She lives here out of attatchment to those gone missing: Voltaic, Azzuen, and now Kri. Whatever else happens, the land is sacred, even if those who tread upon the sands have no particular meaning to her.

Thus, the talk of alliances piques her interest. The shaman listens quietly, thinking of the Foothills from the perspective of a bystander. She had never visited the land of the Earth God, had met few from their ranks, even in the beginning when Gossamer had held the crown. Now, though, it seems that many are quick to give opportunity to those who strike against their allies. The Illuminant finds it strange, for even under new leadership, do their warriors not hold the same faces as the invaders? The same names? The same hearts? She frowns.

"We have strong friends," a calm statement and one for thought. "The World's Edge has plenty of warriors, and the Asylum fought bravely during our invasion. We do not need more friends, but the Foothills is not as lucky as we." Her sky eyes look toward Midas, since Gaucho was deferring the decision toward him from the sounds of it.

"Our allies proved themselves friends by aiding us when we needed them. What has the Foothills done? They have attacked the World's Edge; they had proven to hold no loyalties except to payment.
"Even under a new lead, the followers are still the same. After all, in the absence of my mother, we did not change our hearts.
"We also risk damaging our alliance with the World's Edge by creating ties with their attackers. We should not risk losing one friend for another."