So much had happened.

Her capture, the broken bond, her herd's capture of the Basin's General, the attempts on her friend's lives because of it, her release, Solstice's escape, Xanthos' escape… it was a whirlwind of happenings, all chaotically congesting into a cesspool of disorienting confusion, tumultuous perplexity settling into her mind and giving the WeyrLeader a monumental headache. Golden eyes clicked shut behind charred lids, the mare stood as just that; a dark, shadowy smudge against the landscape of spring forests, letting the trillions of thoughts roll through her head. Saline air pressed against her, lifting the silken threads that grew along the crest of her curved nape. There was much to be done.

The fleck of gold that flew above her chirruped a sound, it was not a pleased sound, for the she knew what was to come. The dragon did not want to venture near death any more than she had to; but the Leader did not want death on her doorstep any more. Decay and rot haunted his footsteps, shadows squirmed and writhed around him. He was the reaper, he lived while others perished, the energy drawn to him was stolen, taken from the cells of another and presented with the bravado of a gift. The brother to the leader spoke of this horned beast's powers in the invasion, he spoke of the brush he had experienced with death itself. Mirage had looked upon her beloved siblings then, and believed them, and she would heed their warnings now.

Though the magic that marked him was restrained by the grips of her sister's talented companion, it was an imperfect hold, and as she neared the area that was marked a prison cell - signs, of the battle fought between guard and prisoner, and further lifelessness in the very atmosphere - it took a grim determination not to give in to the dizziness that pulled at her, the weariness of the past weeks that resurfaced in the presence of this fiend. Indifference shone upon her face, as she acknowledged the guards, holding their gaze in silent approval and gratitude, before the steely, stony façade returned with a swift efficiency. The grey unicorn was there, and upon looking at him, she felt another wave of something unsettling - nausea? Fatigue? Exhaustion? Extinction? - wash over her.

The Basin had proved their point, they were a force to be reckoned with - but Mirage had never doubted that fact. Why else would she had so carefully counted her allies, who had fought alongside her during her invasion, who continued to attempt to aid her even when she had been captive? Yes, Mirage knew of the unicorn's prowess, she was not foolish enough to grow complacent; yet, neither should they. Had they not proved themselves in these games of warfare too? Had they not won their right to call the World's Edge their home? Had they not stolen one of their own back, and had allies steal from the Basin in retaliation, and blocked countless other attempts on their ranks besides?

"Deimos." Dry, cracked tones spoke, the throat of the leader suddenly parched, though her resolve to speak did not die with the failings of her voicebox. A pause in her speech, to wet her tongue, was all the mare showed of the effects this proximity did to her. "A truce, until Orangemoon, with the Aurora Basin herd, in exchange for your freedom." The leader was not foolish enough to expect a truce to last forever; nor did she expect the foul, loathsome cretins to keep it at all. But what she spoke was not a request, more of a statement, a command, a sentiment of something undeniable. She wanted him gone from here, needed him gone from here - but she had to at least attempt to bargain for the safety of her herd first.

[ For Deimos, and Edge members. ]

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