The barrier had been placed back up between the small area of Ithrim and her past life and the rest of her thoughts, keeping her from remembering him fully. Shoving away every thought of him, focusing instead on the Grey and her life. What in the world was she doing? Sometimes she wondered what her real purpose was in the Grey. She was a Mercenary, a Recruiter, a Babysitter, a Bodyguard…and yet she was the only one giving out her love, strange and cold as it may be. Did anybody even give two shits about her? Was she just the poisoner? Did they look up to her? Was she even worth being looked up to? Could she really lead Hana into that sort of life? Hana would enjoy it, no doubt. Yet Lakota seemed to be just a shadow, not that it had ever bothered her before. That was what she did best, after all. It was her life, and she was rather surprised that something had kept her in Helovia. Whatever it was, she thanked it, for it had brought her sister back to her.

Soft sigh shook her lean chest, ruffling a few blades of grass that were swept up intimately against her ebony skin. Lakota had no idea what to do from here. Knowing she would stand once more and turn back towards the woods, push away the worries that had driven her from them in the first place. Ithrim, his memory, always seemed to comfort her when she needed space. But once she had arrived in her home, what then? He had begged her to love again, to open up and show the side of her that was hidden very deep inside of her. A beautiful pearl inside a clam shut far too tight. Could she do it again? Could she really allow someone in that far, where they could hurt her? The one and only place she was most vulnerable? She had gone through hours of torture after killing her father, and she had taken it with a bloodthirsty, satisfied smirk on her face. Pain did not break her. Physical blows would never hurt her as much as love could. Even if she did decide she wanted to love again, who would even care enough to see past the thousands of walls she put up to protect herself? Fuck, she sounded like some lonely romance-starved filly!

Her face twisted into a scowl just as the sound of another touched her listeners and made them swivel upon her cranium. It is another mare, and she seems so satisfied with her own beauty that Lakota feels like smashing her face in. Reeling in her rather violent tendencies, she gave her a cold stare that was her normal face. If she took offense it wasn’t her fault, for that was how her face looked all the time. Standing she was still satisfied to realize she was taller, shaking herself so that the grass and petals fell off her sides. ”I’m not your friend,” she grumped, but nonetheless stood to face her. Once upon a time, Lakota was beautiful. She always would be, but the frigid nature of her expression often made her seem far too strict, far too angry. Beauty was irrelevant to her. Who cared what you looked like? You could be the prettiest person on the outside and be a rotten bitch on the inside. ”Lakota, Poisoner of the Grey.” That was all she needed to say, and all she would. Her title. The only thing she owned. Violet irises surveyed the female before her, calculating what she could. ”What brings you here?” She really didn’t care that much, but she might as well attempt conversation right?