Ask and thou shall receive.

There was only the space between heartbeats where Orithia could feel confusion at the black painted woman's words. Before she could react, a giant blue stallion was standing before her, his eyes shining with mirth. The coral lass clenched her jaw without thinking, the presence of the behemoth male and his jovial chatter grating at her; it was not any fault of his, of course, and the ivory Pegasus worked to loosen the tension that had allotted within her frame.

She needed to learn to trust these supposed herdmates. She needed to understand that her aggression was not needed, not here among those who wished her no harm; but Orithia wasn't much for education and she had never placed any importance in understanding. The pastel shaded mare eyed the scythe-like horns that sprouted from the azure stallion's skull and couldn't help but think of all the ways that three-peaked crown could be used against her.

The moon priest spoke of flying and envy and Orithia pitied him for his innocence; there was nothing of hers to envy.

Nodding in reply to his introduction, the pale lass noted the way Alune's eyes crawled over her, assessing and cataloging what she would never know. Resisting the urge to bare her teeth at his gaze, the winged shield maiden's sharp tongue was only halted by the priest's advice and Iona's subsequent approval. Pastel eyes sliding to rest upon the scarred mare, Orithia took a step closer to her, feeling as if the mare's presence was the only thing keeping her from returning to habit.

The thickening silence was short enough, interrupted by yet another behemoth of a stallion. Her eyes scanned the giant, taking in scars old and new, noting the pride and primal strength that poured from his figure. She found herself pinned by his eggshell gaze as yet another equine approached, her slim form slipping silently between the pair of stallions.

The blushed mare allowed Iona to speak for her, even words smoothing the transition between stranger and subject, peer and King. Orithia thought she detected an edge to her guide's words, but it was soon replaced with a note of mischief. As Tembovu's booming voice framed a question that was more akin to a demand, Orithia felt her lips quirk ever so slightly; if he became angry enough there was no doubt that that horn of his could slice her to bits.

What a tempting course of events.

But her reply did not consist of poison, instead the rose spoke with a raw honesty that found itself evident in the difficulty with which the words were uttered, "I will be no good to you as a Moon Child. The battlefield and I are no strangers." Her eyes hardened and sparked with a frigid rage, "My loyalties lie with Iona and her loyalties lie with you."

I have no other choice.

It is either here or nowhere.

She had been faced with a choice between the Edge of the World and the Edge of Sanity.

"I will be of use."