"I’m Illynx, by the way," she says not too far out into the walk, realizing that she had not given her name and had thus not received one for her new companion, either. Its probably a good sign that the conversation hadn’t been so lackluster as to require the boring exchange of names, but she doesn’t think of such things as she walks along, observing the passing foliage half heartedly with an occasional flash of her tail against her flanks to ward away hovering insects. They were a good many hours out from the first foothills of the mountain, and so she made good pace rather than rushing; it was senseless to charge home only to arrive so out of breath that she couldn’t explain anything that they looked upon.

She supposes she should also tell her new accomplice who she was aside from just a name, but she hesitates in fear that it will shatter any innocent banter they had shared or might share in the hours to pass; she does know, however, that the illusion will break as soon as they are home, and while it pains her to slip back into her ice laden crown, she resigns to the fact that she will eventually have to share the truth.

For now, they’ll carry on just the way they are.

"It’s a good distance from here," she says cheerfully, "you’ll know we’re close once we pass the great caverns made of ice, several miles into the tundra."

--- Time Elapse ---

The narrow path straightened and gained a more even pitch as they neared the last stretch of the mountain passes that led to the Basin, the warm wind eased into a crisp but still pleasant draft the further they climbed. Used to the walk, she kept her pace slow more for her companion than anything else; every so often, she warned of weak areas in the loose stone or where the drop would kill should they slip down. All the while, a pressure built in her conscious, one that reminded her she had to lose the informal guise she had worn for the duration of the day and resume her responsibilities.

Sighing, she pauses at a wide stretch several yards from the entrance, the bronze sentinel looming imposingly in the backdrop as she turns to look at Agrona, a smile on her face as she takes time to explain what the woman might expect within. "That’s it, just ahead," she begins, "inside you will find only unicorns. Its officers of mention are Torleik the Bloodskald, our General of forces, Mistress Lena, our head of physicians, and the head of crafters, Ulrik the Engineer and Farenjer the Weaver." Her smile is friendly as its always been, hiding her inner worry that the kinship she has felt with this humorous and clever woman will be lost in her next words. "We are led by Lord Deimos the Reaper, and myself, the Lady Guilded Blade."

@[Agrona]