Her land was much different than that which Ciceron lived in, or any of the other herds of Helovia, for that matter, for it was comprised of many dark souls who sought only things for themselves. She was learning this, that she was not alone in her quest for dominion, and that it was surprising to her was perhaps the most stunning of all revelations. How could she have been so blind as to not see it?

And now that it was there, obvious and ugly, its stain couldn’t be rubbed out. She had never found family among those she lived with, aside from Psyche, and while she had not desired their love, the tarnish that they would not give it even if she attempted to earn it was disconcerting. To her, the Basin would always be her home – a place she loved quietly, to herself. It surely was not the presence of others that made it worth her time.

It was not as if she had given up, either. She was just wallowing in her pit of depressing emotions and selfish desires, up to her ears in negativity that she perpetuated for some unknown reason to her. One day, the draw of exploration would pull her out again, if she ever found the time. But how could she explain these things to this stranger? This beautiful man tossed from a dream onto the tundra, his hopeful replies to her dismal words only stirring the deep set ache in her chest once more.

Perhaps he was right, a companion would make her time less tedious and hurtful. But, the only person she desired to walk with had been banished from the mountain by men that she personally felt had no rights to do so; her only friend was wandering the wilderness, alone. The only things that kept her from following her out the gate was a prying sense of responsibility that had wedged its way into Illynx’s brain, and the dark fear that the Empress had abandoned her.

She did not like to think of the latter for too long. It made the pressing prickle of tears ebb and flow from the corner of her eyes, and she did not wish to weep so often over things she could not change.

If only this man could tell her she had not been abandoned, that her dearest was simply overwhelmed by the world as she was herself. But Ciceron did not know these things. From his cheerful conversation about the bright linings of the world, she doubted he could even comprehend how she felt at this moment. It made her want to sigh, throw her face into the cold snow at her hooves, and rest away the remainder of her life, despite the burning coals of her pride.

"Perhaps," is all she says, a sad collection of notes that dissipate on the frigid air. She gazes long and out across the water, the dark outline of the Moon’s statue holding her eyes for a good moment, her frown deepening with each passing second until she can bare it no longer.

"What would you have in a queen?" she asks suddenly, turning her face quickly and with a fervent stare in the direction of Ciceron once more, her heart fluttering in the hope that he can tell her what it is she must do to earn the love of those she ruled, "For her to earn the right to your servitude and respect, what must she do? Who must she be?"

@[Ciceron]