The painted spy had pressed the concern about her sister to the back of her mind in the wake of the meeting.  She’d been so damn proud at how Alysanne had risen to the occasion and not shrunk one inch under undue criticism. Her sister’s strength had told Iona all she’d needed to know.  Her quiet sister - once meek, once too trusting - had matured into a figure she was powerful to stand both beside and behind.  Though Alysanne doubted her own strength, she wore it plainly, and Iona could hardly contain her pride.  From the moment she had stepped up to claim her place as Queen, Iona felt the pride swell in her chest to a point where she was afraid her ribs would falter under the pressure.

She’d wanted to stay and say something to Alysanne right at that moment. But it was obvious that it wasn’t the time and so Iona had gone - fading away into the shadows and leaving her sister to the spotlight.  She knew that she’d find time to pick Alysanne’s brain soon enough.  She was more worried that her sister had taken some of the barbs to heart and was dutifully ignoring her wounds.  Iona had a mind to make sure that none of the hateful words that had been spoken had wounded her sister, and that none of those wounds had been festering over time.  The Edge would be hard pressed to find one more devoted to this place for as long as Aly had been. Isn’t that what they were calling her now? The Devoted? Now that was a name that her sister could surely live up to. 

Iona never had a difficult time locating her sister. For one thing, even in the thickest of mists her sister’s white coat stood out.  But the heat of Tallsun kept the mists from reaching their fullest potential anyway.  And of course there was also that mythical twin sense that those without a twin simply couldn’t fathom.  It wasn’t a sort of radar or mind reading, but the two sisters had certainly developed some sort of intuition early on and strengthened it over time.  She picked her way between the trees carefully and landed in the meadow where she’d seen her sister. 

When she caught sight of her lighter twin, Iona mocked up a thoroughly halfhearted bow by extending one of her large black wings and tucking her nose to her shoulder.  The play at decorum only lasted a heartbeat for the painted spy was wearing a smirk when she looked back to her sister.  “Don’t get used to it,” she said with a toss of her thoroughly wind-tossed mane, “That was a one time thing and I’ll deny it if anyone asks.”

She eventually drew to a halt and rested a hind leg as she looked at her sister in silent appraisal, as if searching for the physical evidence of the wounds inflected by the words flung so carelessly at the meeting.  Eventually, her gaze is drawn to her sister’s warm emerald eyes and Iona is sure that she can see the questions in her own matching pair.

“So…?” she said, simply.  Iona, always the wordsmith. But there was an inherent question in such simple syllables. Normally, Iona wouldn’t even follow up with a further statement, but this was Alysanne after all.  “How are you holding up?”