Pony Express [High Ranking Officials Only Please]

[OPEN] Pony Express [High Ranking Officials Only Please]

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413

Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3

Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE

Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie

06-16-2014, 02:04 PM (This post was last modified: 06-16-2014, 02:05 PM by Illynx.)

I L L Y N X
take a look in the mirror - see the truth in your face

A call sends her trotting towards the source, leaving her son in the midst of the Crafter’s Cave where they had been arranging the items that had been brought in by the others and shuffling out the loose debris that had been sloughed from the walls during the harvesting of the bronze and iron that had been in this particular room. Rikyn, too young to know just how much the cave had changed since they’d begun broadening it, watches his mother go with all her words about what an achievement this vast, stone kennel is twirling through his mind.

He disagrees, but knows that it will be of much assistance to his father and the other weaver (Farenjer, had his mother said?) and is happy to toil without his dam’s watchful stare, he himself busying himself before she is even out of sight and the Lady a flashy display in her regal, platinum armor that finally fits back over her still slightly pudgy torso.

She is thankful for the cover, especially as she arrives to see who has beckoned smelling of the green haven to the south; the stag is familiar, colored like the moon with traces of silver flowers rising up his legs. That she knows his name adds a most benevolent gleam to her smile as she arrives to greet the two unicorns, pleased, at least, with Midas’ selection of consorts for they are as she is.

Arriving to stand alongside the dark Lord shortly after his appearance to the gathering, her smile is welcoming where Deimos’ mask is its usual glower, and inwardly she giggles at the way neither of them ever change while letting her eyes run across the obviously… impaired stallion and his unique flask who accompanies Ciceron. Adding to her delight of the ever faithful personas of both the rulers of the mountain and the drunkenness of the dual horned beast, she remembers the conversation that she and the dappled stallion had had when Psyche had been ousted from their number; she stood alongside one of the thorns to invoke that pain now, and he himself had born witness to it.

There were no traces of that weak and miserly creature left on her frame, today. Her neck arches elegantly and her pretty face is angled with gleaming golden eyes in full focus on the entourage standing at their gates, ears lifted to reveal the jagged, hairless ridges of the left; even her maternal figure is supple and graceful as she positions her golden dipped legs to leave her in the most splendid of physical arrangements before she, too, offers her greetings to the stranger and the man who had once consoled her weeping heart.

"My brothers," she says as sweetly as one can expect from such a well disguised snake, for they truly are as she names them no matter where they live, so long as she knows them to be of pure blood and of no bane to their cause and people, "welcome to our majestic abode. I am the Lady Illynx." She pauses to meet their eyes, her own illuminated with her lies of kinship and friendliness, of being no danger to any of them for she is only a pretty and kind woman who weeps in the snow as far as Ciceron knows, returning her gaze to the man who had called for them in the first place (having decided, quite quickly, that the other was surely an escort, for he reeked of something foul and she herself had loaned witness to the silver lining of the dappled stag’s tongue, surely a wise choice for such political envoys).

She does not see Midas or Seele arriving through the heavens or along the passage behind them, and she is not such a fool as to think that this pair has come bringing anything she wants to hear; even if the truce is accepted (the least likely option), she is offended by the lack of courteous behavior shown in sending lackeys to do the work that she had personally attended to when offering the friendship. She assumes, however, that the words to be given to her are no.

She asks, anyway, golden fox that she is.

"Do you bring word from the Czar and Czarina of our offer, Ciceron?" she asks, her thoughts on what he’ll say capturing all of a few seconds of her silent connection with each man’s eyes in turn, giving little time between her sentences to allow them to think she’d considered why it was two foot soldiers had come in the place of their king.

Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission.

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