The calmness of the journey north was broken as she moved to swing the gateway shut, her captives pale hooves flashing in the mountain light out towards the frame of the Gilded Blade, the unicorn’s lips rising into a rancorous expression that resembled a snarl as she recoiled from the oncoming blow while swinging the metal trap closed. In retrospect, the height of the buck had not been of much use as a combative method, but none the less, her imaginary hackles were raised as she glared hatefully through the iron bars at her captive, disliking the strangeness that the pale wench had displayed already.

It was bad enough that the bitch was of a bald face, no crown upon her head; that she was also seemingly broken in some ways before the insidious mare had ever laid a golden eye upon her roused devils within her heart that she chides subconsciously, stroking their snapping jaws with figurative fingers in hopes to ease their distress. The woman was not truly hers, before now; she cannot undo what has already been done.

But she can certainly ensure that it becomes worse.

Her snarl grows into an equally distasteful smirk in the face of the insolent grin on the face of her pet, the bitch letting a growl of sorts escape her lips in light of the words that fall from the smug earth wretch’s mouth. Her ears pin atop her delicately crafted skull, her elegant neck arching low and snaking her dark features nearer the bars, close enough to smell the stench of her victim as she cackles like a deranged animal caught in the throes of an iron trap. "What pain, unless you can cast your own onto me?" she sneers, her voice dark and dancing in the cold air with a dark twist of laughter to its notes, velveteen coat catching the white flakes of snow that drift lazily down to the blanket below, "You have nothing, and no one. It is why you are here."

Her will gathers, a vicious gleam gathering in the heart of her irises as she bores her gaze into the supple white features of Luneia, the doomed; arcs race along the length of her golden spire, white and bright blue and hot as flames as they build their electrical currents along her most favored feature. She is giggling to herself, though she does not know it, and her hoofs mindlessly prance beneath her as she sways to the silent song of the power that thrusts through her veins like undulating currents of the magic she is about to unleash on the fool has refused her initial, most kind offer.

"The stone will have you, one way or the other," she croons, lashes fluttering atop explosively golden eyes, whether it drinks your blood or your sweat, it will be fed; what will you chose? The bolt she unleashes from her gathered energy launches itself against the stone in a hopes to startle the wench, exploding in a million sparks that shower outwards from the blast, her laughter openly bleeding its sinful song into the air as she drifts out towards the vale, her lips parting in a whiny that reaches its feminine notes out across the mountains.

She has had a tremendously delightful idea, one which will make her tormenting of the hornless mare all the more fun and agonizing for the victim in question. The sparks that race along her horn fizzle away, her brilliantly illuminated eyes broad and full of a sinister joy, so devious her idea that she has been torn away from one her most favorite past times in order to better the game as a whole.

"Sir Ulrik, my most darling Engineer," she summons, "I have need of you!"

@[Ulrik]