A young mare approaches, though the WeyrLeader barely notices, aside from a silent glance as she greeted the other stallions present. The golden bodice of Mirage was fixated upon the movement that was churning into something more definitive, something more violent, more devastating than anything going on here. She did, however, acknowledge Nadira's words with a faraway curve of her scaly lips, a sad smile offered in exchange for the fact that the Foothills own healer had been stolen. It was a cruel method the Grey had used to cripple their opponent, and Mirage was not blind to their efforts to attempt to do it against the Edge as well. But the Edge had their defences on high alert all the time, with Ink and Xanthos, her sister, and her loyal Protectors all working together to protect and defend their borders.

Could she blame the Grey for what they did? Had she not done it herself before? Mirage trembled as her gaze looked back to the ocean of chaos that was the invasion taking place, shivering with an internal battle of wills - her metaphorical hands were tied, it was all she could do to ensure those she loved and cared for stayed out of harms way - or else, knowingly placed themselves in the line of fire, like the winged mare Kri.

A grey paint stallion arrived then, not hesitating to throw uneducated words at them, using a tone he clearly thought portrayed wisdom and knowledge, when really he only sounded like a warrior looking for a fight, even trying to goad these bystanders into a scuffle.

"Let him spend his energy as he pleases, do not waste your own on anger, Aaron." Mirage's voice was a quiet hum as she spoke to the familiar painted stallion, her expression guarded, her bodice giving away nothing of the trillions of different thoughts that roamed about within her. She hid it all, beneath a façade of calm relaxation, passive acceptance that these things happen, and there was little she could do to change the way a stranger felt about the situation. Even as she warned Aaron, it was not with force, not the same force that she had ordered all those loyal to her to not participate actively in this invasion.

Paladin then, arrived. It seemed they were going to gather up a large group of spectators to this battle. Mirage tilted her crown to him, recognising him as a former leader, an experienced and capable warrior, a stallion to be respected for most things - though she wondered at some of his political decisions. They didn't affect her, not directly at least, and she still respected him for what good he had done. He offered some words, pointing out the absence of the latest leader of the Foothills, a young buck whom Rishima had thought contained some brains - evidently he did not contain a heart.

Jackal the King of Thieves indeed, he had stolen the hearts of the Foothills, and just like a true thief, he was now nowhere to be seen.

A smoky sigh exhaled from her scaled muzzle as she reluctantly agreed with Paladin's words of a hopeless fight, an obvious victor. Aaron threw more scathing words around, and Mirage did not react, did not acknowledge them, for something else had drawn her attentions. What is Mauja doing here, indeed? Her golden gaze peered down at his icy form, an apprehension began curling within her, as suddenly she felt like her own borders were naked - even though they were well stocked with Protectors. Another stallion arrived, one who held similarities with Paladin - Mirage did not know him, however, and so only offered him a glance in acknowledgement, a tilt of her crown as she swivelled her attention to her herdmates in a bit of a flutter.

"We can only offer our services to our allies once the fighting has ceased. Our Healers have been informed of their impending need, and our borders will be open to any who seek shelter amongst friends." There was a mental confirmation as Akaith chirruped quietly that she had made contact with Kiba, and that Torasin was ready for what may come. While she looked at Aaron and Xanthos as she spoke, her posture included all that had gathered, wanting to make it clear that the Edge would be ready and waiting, to help where they could. "We cannot fight our allies, and while it causes me - all of us - discomfort, I cannot sanction my own forces marching to battle to fight against ones I have pledged allegiance to.. There is nothing I can do but help them rebuild afterwards, however much it kills me in the meantime."

The dragon had shifted position, her form taking on a new energy, one that showed those near her that she was preparing for flight - Mirage had become suddenly insecure in seeing Mauja nearby - what was he planning? She did not intend on lingering near him to find out, rather, she felt like her own home needed her - she would fly over the Throat too, to ensure the borders there were safe - she recalled a meeting called by the stallion Tio, declaring an effort to overthrow the magnificent desert lands.

"I cannot stay and watch." For more reasons than the obvious. "I must check our borders, and that of the Throat, there are many threats roaming around Helovia at the moment, I recommend we focus upon what we can do instead of standing around here focussing upon what we cannot do." Her gaze drifted to the Foothills members that had joined them. "What I said earlier still stands; you are welcome in the Edge, I would even appreciate any help you can offer those wounded in this battle in finding our healers. I must take my leave now - I will always be near, signal to Akaith if you need me."

With a flourish of her wings, the dragon turned and moved several paces away from the group, before taking a few leaping strides and allowing her wings to fill with the wind of the Foothills, that would take her wherever her athletic form desired. Akaith flew low around the group for a loop, before following her bonded to the skies, prepared for the journey ahead that would take them across the stretches of Helovia.

[ Mirage out - if you do need her, feel free to play as if you delivered Akaith a message, as both of them will be lingering in the skies above the Foothills, with Akaith being in shouting distance. ]

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