She waits patiently through the Moon’s address to each who had arrived before her, an interesting look given the young mare which she chides with her usual air of overwhelming grace and power. The Lady has met both the Gods of the land who call to her heart, and while the Lord of Time is a powerful being of much strength, there is an air to the Goddess that touches her in so many ways that the surly ebony and bitch man could not. She had not grown strong and fierce beneath the twinkle of his black cloak, as she had the Mother of Night, and while the mountain had surely hardened her soul in the years she had been there and worn a deep and meaningful home into her heart, no place is ever loved quite as much as the realm in which our childhood dreams lived and flourished.

The Lady is distracted from her listening by a familiar pale silhouette in her peripheral vision, letting her gaze flit over towards the movement as the young griffon is turning back around towards her master. She eyes him curiously, how he stands on the outskirts as if he has no true understanding of why they are all here, how he has followed two strangers into the fold and lingers as if held captive.

Now that she thinks about it… where has her General been? Looking hard at the black unicorn who wore the mask of a fallen elk that it seemed Torleik was keeping company with, she took note to send out a few soldiers or perhaps Roland to investigate who this stranger was, and if she had been wrong to entrust the rank to the snow flecked stallion… or if they had enemies to watch, by new or old names.

A pull on her senses returns her eyes to the Moon, thankfully so, for the Goddess has turned her attentions upon the Lady and she does so dearly love when the focus is upon her. She revels in the gaze of the Goddess as it turns to her, the contempt lining the powerful woman’s features as she glowers down on the despicable gilded wench. Illynx does not flinch, her smile unfaltering and sweet even in the face of the Moon’s contempt, well set on her chosen path; it twinges, only slightly, at the first lines of her quest.

”Burn, Illynx.”

But the words continue, even as she wonders if the Moon is truly beginning the conversation with death rather than their previous, almost enjoyable verbal banter. But her smile is back in full light, burning and joyful, as she hears that it is only the violent introduction to a quest she had sought two seasons past. Bowing low to the Goddess in honor of the chance to prove her strength and value beneath her black wings, the Gilded Blade lets her front limbs stretch out before her and her black rimmed lips nearly graze the earth before rising.

"So it shall be, my Lady," she says, falling back into a contented silence and observing the rest of the meeting, special interest given to Torleik’s reaction to the Goddess once he finally realized why everyone had gathered here.

How… interesting, that he too felt the strength of her power as deeply as she did, and how intriguing that the warrior had melted as if ice in the sun before her. Perhaps she would be the same, had there not been the past keeping she and her Mother so separate of one another; perhaps she might grovel before her if Illynx felt that any deserved for her to grovel before them at all, especially not those who had been less than kind to her. But, standing here in the wake of the quest she had been given with the additional worries over her General coursing through her mind, she found that she felt less bitter towards the Goddess than she ever had, that perhaps the Edge would not burn to ashes when she came to reclaim their stolen home.

She is right, to hate me, admits the Lady, to herself, and without question to the Goddess of the Night.