She eagerly awaits the response from her Haruspex, part of her hoping that he will find the being before her salvageable and others wishing that he will decree her better off dead. It’s the odd mix of emotions that had forced her to summon him out here, anyway; she already knew Deimos’ answer, a dark and resolute no, and she figures that her dear Ulrik and the wicked Doctor d’Artagnan would be of the same mind. Her other council members are too gentle of the heart to offer her a suitable reply – and this left only Zikar, odd and measured in his logic.

She trusted him to do right by their people in his decision, and she would do as he decided. He was, after all, their Seer, and he should rightly know things the rest did not for such reasons.

He takes note of the pleasant nature of the bird beast as she had – for one, the monster was politely outside their doorway, and she had not shouted insults or demanded entry as Illynx has seen the winged sorts do in the past. That the mare is obviously civil despite her mutations is part of the reason Illynx dallies on a decision that would normally come swiftly – the winged were not welcome.

But Rhea was not truly winged, was she?

He pinpoints something she had not previously thought, as well – that the mare may be sane now but could deteriorate to such a point that she is useless and better off as bones. A brow rises on the delicate constructs of the Lady’s face, wonder lighting the golden hue of her eyes as she ponders the truth of this statement and runs her gaze over the oddly marked pelt of the winged thing.

But, he looks to her, and with the most devious of gleams in the back of his pale eyes, he makes a suggestion that instantly blooms a smile across the face of the dubious golden Lady.

A probationary period! What delightful mad genius.

As the hybrid speaks up for herself, more logic clicks into place within the mind of the smug and arrogant ruler of the snow, her smile gleaming and her stance gaining grace as her thoughts grow more upbeat, more hopeful that the true era of the unicorn’s greatness is to begin today. Sure, it is but one winged thing seeking retribution – but how many more will follow her? How many more can be saved, twisted to the havoc of the Plague’s blasphemed desires, how many might become beautiful in all the ways they were born broken?

Its thrilling, such a thought, nearly intoxicating, and she hums a soft sound of approval in her throat as she turns thankful eyes to the man who answered her summons. "Bless you for your wisdom, Zikar," she says sweetly before returning her eyes to the winged one, a devious light fringing the curvature of her lips, "and welcome, for now. You may stay until the rise of Orangemoon in a year’s time, providing you conform to our laws and do not deteriorate mentally."


@[Zikar-Sin]