After finding her sister in the Threshold, Lakota found herself leaving the home of her mercenary group to wander through its boundaries. Tall pines met her at every turn, yet their presence did nothing to dissuade her. Face was constructed into a perfectly passive look, uncaring and detached. Cold, as if someone had taken what could be a beautiful visage and slipped a thin sheet of ice over every feature beneath her dark ebony skin. The tall mare prided herself on her silence and ability to move about the world like a wraith; empty, unnoticed. At times she would amuse herself quite thoroughly with the idea that she would have been better of as an Informant. But no, Lakota was not made for haggling information out of others. Silver tongue she may have when situation called for it, but she liked lacing it with poisonous words instead. Getting things through brute force, uncaring of the emotions of others. That was her way. Bored and growing rather annoyed by the happy atmosphere of the warmer season, she kept to the sparse shadows of the trees. Dark color stood out far to much in the brightness, preventing her from slipping about unseen.

Ruminations of another interrupted her, another vixen coated in similarly shady colors. Staring deeply into a pool of water that clung to the surface of the earth. She did not appear to be an oracle or a seer of any sort, so staring at her own reflection seemed like a waste of time to the sharp tongued mare. Perhaps she eventually thought the same for she shook her head as if disgruntled. Lakota stepped forward, unhappy that she could not loom over this mare for they were equal in height. Nevertheless her lean bodice drove her forth, vibrant violet irises watching the other mare intently. "Lost or searching?" She spoke, voice cool and silky. It was difficult to keep her trademark annoyance with all other souls at bay, but she managed fairly well. "Lakota, Poisoner of the Grey. You are?" Seeming almost unwilling to be kind at all, though her visage never wavered from its icy stare. It wasn't as if she was threatening the dame, she simply didn't care much. If your name wasn't etched into her ribcage, you weren't shit to her.