There is trouble brewing beneath her hooves, and Lakota does not fancy it.
It is admittedly trouble that she enjoys, in a sick almost masochistic fashion. She is straining towards the goal that her mistress has set before her, eager to obey and impassioned by the idea of not only invasion but of claiming land of their own. Finally, she would be able to help give her family a home. Real borders, protection, a working system. It was everything Lakota had ever dreamed of for her wonderful little flock of bitter birds, and she was doing her damnedest to help Ktulu and Ophelia with their dream. It was a dream that hovered within the mind of every Grey member. Aodaun sensed her stir craze and shifted uneasily at her legs as they strode purposefully towards the presence felt within their borders. Shafts of weak light illuminated the flickering figures before her as they, too, moved as one towards the sole intruder. Ao is young, hardly more than a cub, and therefore his mind is spry and flighty. However as they approach, a duo tied by magic, he is calm and complacent. Lakota has sensed the importance of their guest, and will not have him crashing about. Even so his tongue is lolled out from the heat and he is shifting uneasily, but it is the best she can do through strict demand through their bond.
Phaedra was not immediately seen, and would not reveal herself so soon, but hawk-like gaze snapped immediately to the bonded within the trees. As well as she knew Phaedra, she knew Stella. Phaedra was perhaps the trickiest of her lambs to watch over, and knew every inch of her just as she knew every inch of every member within the Grey, so that she may look over them for injuries. Lakota stared hard at the bird before she was spotted by the others, desiring to be seen by her infuriating little sister before she approached the little half-circle created by the sisters. There are no others, and that makes Lakota even more on edge. Ktulu and Ophelia are her queens, and for them to approach Psyche makes her anxious. They are more than able, and can clearly protect themselves, but she finds herself snapping at them in her mind for not alerting the others. It makes her itch with the desire to chase off the other Lead, but it is an instinct driven only by awkward affection for the young girls that stand so proud beside each other.
Lean body moved forth from the shadows, Aodaun at her heels. She moves with a slinking grace similar to a large cat, listeners flickering to catch every piece of conversation. It is not her place to speak, and so her maw remains firmly closed. Instead she slips forward, bodice held high and with a strong edge to it that speaks of her warrior position. There is hardness to her violet eyes, a tension in her flesh that will never leave, for she was born a fighter, and it too was born in her. She positions herself beside Ktulu, her shoulder coming only to her commander’s side. Lakota moves no closer, Aodaun flopping to his soft stomach in the cage her legs make. She is silent, a ghost. There she remains, a statue that shudders in stone with each breath, a protector. Lakota cares not for the negotiations, but an ear is kept out to listen. She is there, always and forever, ready to protect her twins.
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