The blues and browns of d’Artagnan’s gaze met the form of the half hair, the Mender’s hooves shifting on the snowy ground as his body twitched nervously at the proximity of the stranger. Through blizzards and drifts, the shade was impressed by the centaur’s durability and yet, quite revolted by his odd… Habits along the way. For one thing he had no idea why the brute insisted on making fires, the hungry flames piercing fear into his heart, if Kelec knew what flames meant to some upon the mountain, maybe he wouldn’t have been so eager to use them. d’Artagnan had stayed quite some distance away from them, scowling in a shadow whilst the cold winds had buffeted his rough, ruby coat. His carnivorous side was also a hard picture to swallow, prey like instincts confused by the predators teeth, but a horse’s hide. Aramis, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed and often sat back on his haunches, drool cascading from hungry lips. To which d’Artagnan had called him a turncoat and had gone to stand out on the snowy plains, content in his own company. The rest of the way was quiet, his companion becoming more attentive to his surroundings and less inclined to talk. Until they had reached the Basin, that was.

A small smile appeared on his face at Kelec’s observation and he contemplated the question whilst gazing around himself. It was big. Bigger than it was before in herd terms. The foundations set in the Edge had been translated well to the Basin and flourished, if only that had been enough to win the two battles they so needed to have won. "Who knows, a lot of unicorns and a few unlucky prisoners no doubt. One could never keep track, though I can’t say I try to." He quietly replied, the shade struggled to remember the oldest of names never mind the names of those who have just arrived. Memory aside, his gaze snapped to the approaching dark shade, the powerful loins of a stallion well honed in battle, the penetrating gaze of a death dealer. General Deimos the Reaper. A fearful creature indeed, but the Doctor’s heart did not falter in beat, he did not tremble before the devil that came towards them. A profound respect, yes, but death was a release, not a punishment. Deimos gifted freedom in a touch, a relief from life’s desperate grasp. It was something to be celebrated, not feared. Thoughts of battle returned, he had been wondering what his reception would be, but he would find nothing from the General. d’Artagnan had never been able to read that gaze.

Before he could answer, however, another dark face appeared. This one smaller, looked like he was Deimos’ younger, less intimidating, brother with a voice that only managed a murmur speaking strange words, like Lefiri. d’Artagnan’s cold, sharp gaze turns on the boy, pools narrowing is if he was trying to lift the answer from his mind. "You. Speak. He calls himself a Centaur, you call him a Lefiri, explain." His face was set in a grim line, his voice low and powerful, Aramis flashed golden eyes from around his companion’s legs.

In the time they had been talking the Lady of the fine chilly manor had appeared, her lithe limbs splashed in precious colour and d’Artagnan marvelled at the crowd that was slowly gathering. A stir indeed. He meets her curious stare with one of emptiness, the vacant gaze of a monster asleep. "Maybe I was in a giving mood and thought I’d bring my Lady something exotic to play with" his words, however, slid over one another in sleek dark tones, dashed with black hearted humour. The Nightshade’s usual insinuating tones.

The Mender fell silent then, listening as Illynx informed the half horse on numbers and his hairy head, returning her consolation with a deepening frown. He did not want her comfort, the unspoken words of sorrow for his current situation, he would sooner walk off the old misty cliff before he cracked to grief and misery. He spared one last look, however, for the other mare who was there. Silent in her words, but known in her presence. The shade searched the back of his mind, there was a name to her blue face, Huyana was it? He had never spoken to her, only acknowledged, as he did now with a small smile and a firm nod.