"Deodat!"

Her voice rises over the small hillocks splayed between the entryway and the lake front, her attentions drawn to the gate by the familiar scent and figure of the soldier. She likes this particular man, their relationship having begun in an ice cavern to the south after the rains had sealed them in. The painted stallion, while surely of a warrior’s heart, was also intelligent and capable of conversation, and was a handsome sight to behold, and the Lady, even before she had been such things, felt a peculiar fondness for him.

Especially after his timely warning of the beasts in the Marsh, allowing her to have prepared for some of the chaos before it struck them. She only wished that there had been more time, that the great bronze unicorn she slipped past to greet the stallion and a new arrival (she assumed) had been allowed to be completed. The beauty of the creation of the Engineer in unison with the desperation of their plight left her with an odd ache in her chest, though as usual, it was covered up with a bright and gleaming smile, so very like the metallic sheen which graces her body.

"You didn’t meet any…obstacles on your way up, did you? And who have we here?" she asks while drawing to a halt nearest the familiar male, golden gaze sweeping across the features of the mare that accompanies him. The woman reminds her of the girl, Frost Fyre, who had been among them for as long as Illynx had been returned from her travels, her rump white and flecked with the same patterning that she believed was called a blanket.

It was a good look, for the mountains, at least, giving the female the appearance of being covered by snow, much as Torleik appeared to be streaked with it, and Tolio dipped gracefully into a pool of white flakes. Her admiration and calculations whirled about in her mind as her eyes studied the newest member of the herd, seeking for any reason to disapprove of her in a physical means, but finding none.

Now, it would be time to test who she was.

"I am the Lady Illynx, one of the leaders of the mountain," cheerfully pronounces the bitch, though inside she slightly regrets her acceptance of this position while faced with so much darkness, "alongside the Lord Deimos." She doesn’t even bother looking over her shoulder for the ebonite buffoon, half expecting him to be hiding from those who might talk to him and the other half of her believing him to be on patrols. Either way, he wasn’t near her – and that was just fine by the woman.

Illynx