As her dance stills, a curious expression on the face of Hotaru draws the Lady’s eyes downwards to her limbs, were the flesh now peels and bleeds, painless and without the acrid stench of blood but for that which her mind procures for her. A parlor trick, a fancy one, and she half wishes she could pull away to admire the feats of the little fox creature’s magic in the pearly surface of her beloved lake; a pool of crimson spills beneath her, and the nervous tittering of Kyst upon her back proves that at least one of the party is fooled by the disgusting image that the Mongrel procures.

A greeting is given to her by Hotaru at this time, and the Lady laughs heartily in lifted spirits at the sight of her most loathed nemesis at her whims and the jest imparted by the rose dove that has so swiftly climbed to a place in the corrupted heart of the snow queen.

Cruel words pass the captive demon’s lips as the magic falls away and Illynx is again beautiful and not a gored splendor of bones and blood, but it is the voice of another that draws her eyes and the most vicious of smiles to her lips.

"Arah," falls sweetly into the charged air, the rancorous bitch with the white mask as of yet unseen by the snowy thief who peers curiously at the toy placed so kindly at their doorstep. The words that fall from the doe’s lips upon realization that it is her assailant are sharp, loathing for that black hag who burned her daughters and tried to steal away their souls, that stands with the small group huddled at the gate thick and hard in her tone.

The wolfishness of the golden woman’s grin grows.

Friendly banter continues among the sisters of the snow, as if the masked one is only an unsightly stone forgotten at their hooves; her smile is warm and rewarding as her eyes lock onto the pale pools of Hotaru’s. "Keep your armor, darling, it suits you so well," a darkness edges her smirk, deepens the glimmer in her eyes until they are burning with desire, "but let me have that one. I’ve wanted her for so long now."

Slowly, she turns her eyes to the stupid cow who had insulted her one too many times, the wicked woman who had harmed her “friends” and brought shame to their name. How many others wanted her? Too many, Illynx was sure. The sheer delight that came at the thought of the seven hells that would face the wretched bitch at their whims makes her nearly swoon, the blood rushing hot and desperate through her brain.

"Confutatis, you are a criminal by more than just that barren and ugly face you wear," she sings out to the angry and caged devil, "infiltrator, despicable thief, deviant wretch who harms the children of my herd! Our fury is too simple a punishment for the likes of you!" Her ears pin upon her crown, golden eyes narrow and blazing in the frame of her face, long, dark tail slashing and swaying vehemently behind her well sculpted hind quarters. "You will beg for death, weep and moan as every scrap of flesh is torn from you, as you are filled with a desperation for the darkness to swallow you so deep that you can no longer bring yourself to your knees, much less your hooves," she takes a step closer, her face cruel and vicious, teeth glinting and snapping against one another as spittle flies from sickly grinning lips, "you will have nothing left but your pitiful attempts at being more than the maggots living in the rotting carcass of your dearest daddy. Some warlord’s daughter you are."

A sweetening of her expression takes hold as she turns back to the pale Impersonator and Hotaru, a sick joke lingering in the folds of her smile and sparkling eyes. "Your daughters will need training, as will the other children of the herd," simpers the Lady, giggles rupturing the last of her words in delight at the notion of such a dangerous and feared woman as this placed at the mercy of their spring born fawns, "it is a rare opportunity we have a target range so loathed by so many."