Her sweet, bright sounding voice exclaims the piebald's name with her musical tone – it reminds Tangere of how her family used to pronounce the sometimes awkward little tag. In the snowy hills of  her origins however, the name is an honor to have and only given to the daughters of 'Kings'. These small and irrelevant historical facts about herself have faded by now, fuzzy and almost forgotten until something triggers a long lost memory. Her smile remains and her eyes search the fondness swimming in Lena's brown eyes. Roland and Lena? She ponders this behind of the veil of an idle but genuine grin. She wouldn't want to give away her guess at why her friend's eyes are so wide with admiration. The painted unicorn gives Imogen a small look, though, winking to the little white creature with a quick scrunch of her nose, avoiding Lena's vision to do the small gesture.

“I've honestly been doing mostly nothing – wandering around studying the flora, if anything.” She answers Lena's question with an intentionally vague, but true answer. Hoping to change the subject, she's got nothing to mention as to what she's been doing all frostfall, besides pouting. Something she'd rather not talk about. And so she fidgets a bit, and her long lashed eyes flutter, her cropped tail flashing up and falling again. To her relief Lena mentions the beauty of what lays beyond in response to Tangere's question. The snows must be dwindling down; bridsong is on her way, she notes. Roland's voice breaks the wave of feminine and lyrical voices pouring from the two Basinian women, dtill though, he fits his baritone words in the mix with no disturbance at all, despite the tonal differences. “It is good to see you as well, friend.” And the spaces between them fell quiet again and the snow starts to float down from a graying sky now. Tangere steps forward, “Well, we don't want to get stuck out here if it's going to snow, I suppose.” The large corvid on her withers croaks in concurrence;  he's a rather perceptive meteorologist, as it turns out. “Which way were ya headed, I'll walk with you until the fork – I'm headed back behind the pools.” She references where the wide worn roadway (path) splits into the first prominent fork (there are narrow  pathways shooting off in all directions all along the wider actual 'road'). The right leads to her cave which is propped on a stony ledge somewhere behind the steaming pools, hidden among the slate and shadows.

Phrixus launches effortless from his perch behind her neck. He stays low and flaps his graceful wings infrequently, remaining flat and low just ahead of the group. The falling snow swallows him up as he flies faster than their own walking pace, but Tangere can feel that he's still only just ahead.