A strange but familiar smell meets her nostrils as she lifts her head from the ball of feathers rolling about in the grass at her hooves, her son’s laughter bright on the air as she turns her golden eyes to the entrance of the vale. Pausing long enough to look back at him playing along the lakeside and the lower her nose for Kyst to scramble up her neck and onto her shoulders, wincing ever so slightly at the pressure of her talons and cat claws gripping into her, she calls back to the boy that she will be back; not too long ago she quick taking him on her mundane tasks, figuring he had more to learn from the world at this point than from talking to endless faces about nothing in particular as she did on a daily basis. It would be up to him to forge his own path in life, and there was little she could do to guide him where she wanted him with making him loathe the very idea – and so she left him be. He calls a cheerful farewell as her hindquarters move off towards the entrance with Kyst bobbing on her swaying hips.

She arrives to find a pink mare she has seen somewhere before and the Corporal, golden eyes running quickly across the more foreign figure of the mare to find that she is both pregnant and quite smitten with the tri-hued warrior who courts her. That she can see this so plainly on both of them almost makes her gag, she herself more reserved with her chosen male and relatively sure that most only knew of their union for the obvious proof of the child that had been born; love is not something she handles well, even if it is only attraction bleeding its sickly sweetness into the air around the pair and not the true deep emotion she seeks to avoid.

Her nostrils taste the mountain air and smell the dragons of the Edge on the stranger, her mind searching deeply in itself for where she knows her face from. Suddenly, it strikes her – the Moon Goddess, she thinks as a smile slinks onto her features. She has seen this one at least twice before but does not know her name.

It is odd, the way time brings them all together. She will have to give him thanks later, for this blessed year; she had survived the darkness, brought into the world both a genuine child and spared another, seen her companion hatch from an egg gifted to her by a harpy, and now this – another child worthy of their mountain and what she hoped was more than just a cordial visit between lovers.

Such a pretty thing would look splendid among her kin, a rose that thrives in the snow. She smiles sweetly and with all the grace of a poised cat as she arrives, nodding greeting to Deodat without the slightest of inquiries flashing through her eyes; it is apparent to her, at least, that the need to be a man runs strong in the bloodlines of her kin, and that most men gauge their worthiness by the number of brats they can conceive. She wonders, as she turns her gleaming mask to the rose and frost damsel, if this one knows of the other child already here that is not hers but is the Corporal’s.

She has never been pressed to know what she would feel if Ulrik did such a thing to her – but she does not imagine it would be pretty. While she does not love the Engineer, she does consider him in many ways to be hers, and she has never been the sort to share well or even manage to play nice with others. "Salutations, Deodat and his lovely guest," she opens with, not really sure how to approach such a softly smiling woman who glows most radiantly in her venerable condition, soft and perhaps not knowing of the sharpness in these stone walls, "welcome to our home. I am the Lady Illynx, leader of this place alongside his Lordship Deimos."