Brief passionate actions subsided quickly, retreating back into icy lavender eyes. Lakota cursed herself for revealing anything, for being effected even in a miniscule amount by the shadow canvas of a mare. Hadn't the blue dove learned so long ago that nobody would care how she felt anyways? All it would do was give them something to hold against her, twist her arm behind her back with so to speak. Lakota didn't deny that she held morals. She simply chose to ignore them most of the time. Even so, having a passion when fighting got you places. Anger, jealousy, horror; those clouded the mind in battle, made it easier for you to succumb and possibly lose your life. Having a passion for it was different, in Lakota's mind. Either way it was too late, she had shown it and there was no point worrying over how it would be recieved. The mare's answer didn't bother the blue girl, she could easily accept that lifestyle. Nodding curtly to show she had understood and accepted it. The stallion spoke up once again, signing himself in almost enthusiastically. The word choice didn't bother her. Calling yourself a killer shouldn't be something to any from. If it was the truth then speak it.

The mare quickly introduced herself as Ktulu, leader of the mercenaries who appeared to be named the Grey. How fitting, Lakota found herself thinking ironically. Neither black nor white. A mix. At the mention of Ophelia, the gears in Lakota's head started turning. Having always been interested in poisons perhaps it would be best to seek out this 'Ophelia'. If she could heal someone else of poison, then she must know what poisons existed naturally. Though the femme knew that sisters were intensely close, and would make sure to clear it with Ktulu. Lakota had gotten into one too many fights because a sibling believed its kin was in danger. Just as swiftly and silently as she had come, Ktulu turned and after some sort of sign from the cub that had remained patiently at her hooves for one so young. Lakota had no desire to dawdle. It wasn't her way. She always had a goal or a purpose. However she was left with company, and had to rethink what to do next. Shelter was obvious, but Lakota wouldn't join a herd for even a moment if she could help it. Already a sense of purpose was upon her slender shoulders, loyalty stirring and growing slower than the creeping plants that inched too slow for the eye to see up ancient trees. In time she would only be loyal to the Grey. Shaking those thoughts away, however subconscious they may be. Turning deep lavender eyes to the still unnamed stallion.