Revenge is a glorious thing. Some crave it. Some deny it. Some live it. Some fight it. Regardless of the relationship, all feel it in some way or another. It is an all-consuming thing, rushing like wildfire through minds, hearts, souls; it takes over rational thought at a rate nearing insanity, chaos ensuing in its wake. It is an obsession, something that can’t be avoided, can’t be escaped. When it takes you, you become the pet of a monstrous force of which you have no control. You no longer control your anger; it controls you. It wields you like a sword, battering you against enemy after enemy until you triumph. Or you crumble.

The shadow-mare was a vengeful creature; this had not changed with the Qian conquest of the Edge. If anything, her hatred for those unlike her in blood and mindset had grown. Her entire life was based on the idea of vengeance. The world needed to be cleansed of the unpure, her family needed to be purged of the blood-traitors, and now her home needed to be rid of the tainted creatures that roamed it. Let them get comfortable, let them get cozy. Let them relax and become lazy. She would wait, and she would watch. And when they expected it the least, they would reclaim that which was theirs.

She wondered what had become of her past followers, the Plague. She knew the organization was still alive – Mauja would have made sure of that, for all that he was a diplomat. They had made quite the pair, once – her heated passion for their cause had fueled it, and his detached coolness had steered it. Ah, what she wouldn’t give to return to those days, when ruling was easy. And she had been in the perfect position: set to be made Queen, with the FrostHeart fully in her grasp. Even without the title, she ruled separately, for she had created the Plague. It was her blood, sweat, and tears that had made the group possible. Had she remained in Helovia, she would have been doubly the leader – Queen of the Edge and Crux of the Plague. But she hadn’t, and it was far too late for regrets now.

Had she been replaced within the Plague? She was sure that Mauja would have stepped up in her absence, but how would he fare running two herds, with one of them a secret society? There were only so many secrets a King could keep before someone had a slip of the tongue and sent his reign spiraling out of control. He may well have picked a new Crux by now. She would appeal to them, she decided. She had created the Plague, after all – surely she could create a new position. She would not be called ‘leader’ in that case, but advisor was much the same. And she could always challenge once her injuries from the invasion had healed.

The memory of her various bruises and scrapes released a wave of sore limbs. Her right shoulder ached still, though she wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with it. It could be a slight fracture; it could be a deep bruise. In any case, she wasn’t going to some equine healer to fix it. She’d just wait it out, keep most of her weight off of it. The deep laceration along her left side had scabbed over, but broke anew at the slightest stretch. Luckily, it did not bleed profusely, or she would have been dead of blood loss by now. It was an annoyance more than anything, and each time it reopened, the dark vixen would roll in newfallen snow to clean it. She was lucky that Frostfall had come when it did, or she would have higher chances of infection.

Pegasus feathers drifted lazily in a cold breeze, dangling from her silken banner. Amber orbs scanned her surroundings, recognizing certain landmarks of the Steppe now that she had been banished to it with her comrades. The jackal sighed, an irritated sound, as snow began to fall. The skies above were grey, heavily laden with the frozen bits, and there was no sign of a halt any time soon. What a desolate time to be stuck in this icy wasteland! But whining about it would be of no use – it was time to plan. She was seeking the FrostHeart - probably right at home in this place! she thought resentfully – and together, they would prove a force to be reckoned with. If, of course, he would cooperate.

[W/C | 757]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.