She had watched quietly from a distance the exchanging of words between the two men, the first to arrive into the Basin unknown to her but suitable enough to be seen so brazenly on their doorstep, while the second was a much more simply designed and familiar male she had come to know as Descaro. The bay was a corporal she had once served Psyche and Mauja alongside, and the sight of him was slightly nostalgic – but also pleasant. He reminded her of a time when she did not have to watch so heavily upon their doorway, when dreams had bright, shining outlines and weren’t crumpled and rusting on the floor of the valley. He reminded her of a time in which life had been simpler; she only had commands to follow, not ones to give, and she did not have to preside over the patrons of the mountain as she was now doing.

Or, in the case of the red and white beast, watching those who didn’t truly have the rights to venture so far into their hidden haven; while he has made his intensions clear upon arrival, the woman still watches him with narrowed and suspicious eyes, though she cannot properly hear all that is being spoken through the distance and the covering of dark conifers that shield her from their vision.

Descaro is his usual self; he does not arrive with tension writ across his build or in his face, though she is relatively sure that he is prepared for action should the stranger have other intentions. All of the unicorns of the mountain were this way, truly, at least in their preparedness for danger – perhaps some jumped the gun too early, but it was only to be expected among those with hearts as ambitious as their own. She catches something about usefulness, and her smile broadens.

Perhaps not all of us are fools, she muses, grinning softly at the corporal from a distance as she watches the two converse. Most of her smile, however, is reserved for the ludicrous difference in size between the two men.

The great red giant and the little bay, and she decides that she has lingered long enough in observation of the scene as Krieger opens his name into the air. Filing it away for use, she slips in gracefully alongside Descaro as the corporal formulates his replies for the behemoth – whose large frame is currently under heavy scrutiny by the Lady of the place, who is equally as dwarfed by his bulk as the soldier alongside her.

She wants to laugh at the sheer humor in it all, but refrains; instead, her mouth is a perfectly jovial grin, her eyes burning with the laughter she holds on her palate. "We have friends?" she jests with an airy giggle, nodding a brief greeting to Descaro and Krieger in turn before she introduces herself. "I am the Lady Illynx."

She gives a sly glance to the corporal before continuing on with her barrage of words (how she adores the sound of her own voice). "Descaro is right. We have no room for bunnies on this mountain."


[ OOC: Lol I made a punny. :x ]

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.