The snow seemed to cling to the stranger's crimson pelt, his appearance drawing to the woman's lips an amused smile; how perfectly he fitted into the dreamy, snow laden landscape, an ember that glowed in the white blanket. She had seen him before, occasionally while on her patrols but, most notably, during the last meeting that the Dark Empress had held, one of her first moments back among the herd since her lonesome heart and sent her out into the realms outside of Helovia. While most days she may be irritated by the intrusion, her light mood was reflected in the way that she quickly pulled closer to him, her bodice breaking apart the tendrils of silvery steam that rose from the waters she had just abandoned. Rivulets ran down the arch of her neck, splashed crystalline droplets in her wake, her straight and exuberantly long draping dragging across the plush and emerald grass of the valley as golden eyes gleamed in delight at having a conversation to join into on such a fine morning.

Since rising to her position, such occurrences happened more and more often. It seemed that with the title came the obligation to hold meetings with each of her horned minions, and to be honest, the naturally social woman didn't mind. She had changed much since her bitter youth, the adjustment in her attitudes towards life belonging to Psyche but also to the herd itself, the dark ribbon of wickedness that flowed through them, known as the Plague. In their embrace she had found a liberation of her chained soul, and while the heart of the monster was still black as the deepest night, she was quite talented at pretending to be sweet and friendly as any of the others.

"Indeed," she replied to his comment on the peacefulness of the newly born day, nodding as the word of agreement slipped like arsenic laced sugar from her lips, dainty hooves nearly soundless as she approached him. It seemed he wasn't much for conversation, his tones holding a gravely rumble that whispered of disuse, but she did not hold such things against him. After all, he wasn't the one trying to lead a herd in his state of solitude, unlike Deimos, who's existence alongside her still rubbed far too brazenly against the grains of her perfectly formulated and imaginary world, and she herself had once been much the same.

How life has changed, she muses, her ears rising, one ravaged and gruesome atop her crown from the venomous bite of that hornless, skull faced bitch who had dared challenge her on the sacred ground of the mountain valley. It still miffed her quite intensely that the once beautiful hill of pebbles and stones now lay strewn where there had once been grasses and wildflowers, but so busy with her new position and the responsibilities that came with it that she hadn't been able to slip away and demand the capture of the insolent wench. Either way, the wraith had vanished as quickly as she had come, her offer of friendship rebuked quite violently by the bitch who knew there would be no love between the blank browed fool and her kin.

His laughter was pleasant and thrilled her inwardly as she approached, the ego of the woman purring away in belief that it was she who drew such noises of amusement from the lips of the man, and his apology was sweet to her raised ears despite that it showed a weakness on behalf of the stallion; she herself never apologized for doing as she pleased. "There is no need to apologize," she giggled in a breathy lilt, shaking her head in amusement at the statement, but she could not truly blame him for his hesitations; so rancorous were some of the horned beings on the mountain that such an intrusion was liable to end in violence, but it was never so with the golden horned woman when it came to those who shared her home. "I am not so reclusive as to deny a word to my beloved companions."

The cruel voice in her head rumbled in hysterical laughter; she didn't love a single one of them. But he did not know this, and neither did they. It was better to hide behind a curtain of respectful kindness than for them to know her as the selfish and unkind whore that she was.

Tolio, she filed away for use later, finding the name pleasant on the stag's tongue, his accent equally as alluring to the easily amused mare. Her smile grew broad and lively as he made mention of herself, that same voice that had chortled so wholly at her lies now purring in contentment. "That I am, Tolio," she smirked, tilting her crown ever so slightly to the left, "it is good to make your acquaintance. I have seen you around the mountain but have little time to spare these days, it would seem." Her sigh was delicate as it fell from her lips, a faint twitch arising in the brilliant glow of her eyes that revealed her slight resentments at having so much responsibility where she had once had naught. Her poor cave... it had been nearly a season since she had time to clear out the collection of dust, leaves, and pine needles that managed to skirt in under it's emerald covering. A glance was given it's location at the rear of the land, towards the most jagged and towering of the mountains that framed their sanctuary, torn only briefly from the white washed face of the chestnut unicorn before falling once more into the easy cadence of conversation. He didn't need to know that much of her life, after all. "Are you always about so early? Most hide away until the sun melts the chill of the eve," she mused aloud, "though I myself rather enjoy the stillness of the morning; rarely is our Basin so silent as it is now."

There was a river once,
with many round stones
enchanted by shallow hopes
of embracing the ocean;
water is peculiar this way,
how its life is a line
that cannot bend or change
without the approval of its bed.