She had prepared for this little mission the best way she could for herself; a lash of Cobra's Tongue a few hours back was taken to stave off the inevitable and inexorable withdrawal, her albatross. She was careful to take it early enough before she would arrive at the glass dome, well past by then the crippling euphoria and the following manic silliness, left only with a gently flowing pleasantness like a spring in the desert. A good hearty breakfast of dogwood leaves had been followed, up until it was time to head out. Then there had even been extensive mulling over what she would do and say. Her plan was a bit sketchy, rough around the edges, but it would do. She could improvise. Maybe.

Through the mist, he appears like a mirage, summoned by her call. Immediately she is taken aback by his sheer size, dwarfing her. Her throat bobs slightly as she swallows, dryly, her vaguely tilted eyes regarding him as two deep pools of glittering ink. He is enormous, but that isn't his only interesting trait; a beautiful sable pattern decorates his hide while an impressive horn crowns him, spiraled, to match. His bearing, calm but confidant, and demanding respect. She admires it and appreciates the lack of hostility, and it allows her to continue. "Good mornin', sair," she chirps, picking up her mother accent, a light brogue. "I'm Imonada of Hidden Falls. I've come to pay my respects to the World's Edge's new master. And offer myself as a liaison between the two herds, for goodwill." She schools her countenance with iron bound determination; so she never actually mentioned this to Knox... or Archibald... or Kaj... Was she overstepping her authority? But even if she had ulterior motives, there was truth in what she said, insofar as what she wanted. She was not a violent sort, preferring diplomacy. What harm was there in offering a friendship with another herd? Allies were an invaluable treasure. 

Her head dips as she tucks her chin for a slight bow, long wavy jet-black hair falling to curtain her equally dark features-- the strong and regal curve of a Paso Fino with the kind, naturally soft expression of her faint Arabesque Caspian. She holds it for a moment before panning her face back up toward his own colorful one in shades of fawns and deep chocolate browns. Finding herself a tad intimidated, she maintains her spot outside the boundary, poised at the entrance that he now guards like a monolith. Her wings stay flat against her lean sides, the tightly laid feathers taking on a subtle sheen of indigo in the metallic gold of the early daylight. Even with darker clouds of mist hanging in the distance, the sun manages to break through large gaps to flood the dome, turning it into a withering bubble of opalescent hues while lighting foliage all around aglow with molten fire. The mornings were cooling down, though, an Orangemoon herald. "Please, to whom do I address before me?"

"Talk."