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[ ooc: Quite alright. :3 Life can be hectic at points lol. ]
Loyalty had been a curious sensation to Illynx the first time she felt it, and then it had only been to her parents and those of her own species, for reasons limited and few; now, she felt it pulling at her from all directions, no longer directed towards her dead family or in a general siphon towards the horned race. It was slowly refining itself, seaming into the fabric of her very nature, into two separate paths; she felt a deep, thriving loyalty to the Plague and those within the Basin, perhaps stemmed from her own insecurities at having abandoned not only her position but those who had depended on her, and a deeper, more vibrant vein of devotion given only to Psyche. The only time she had cared for another individual's well being at this level had been when she was barely weaned, caring through for the first year or so of her life until the ties with her mother and father had been severed short by time, the gracefully curved arc of death. What was all the more curious to the femme was that she had never noticed her emotional attachment to any of them until the time had come for them to part; only then did she feel a slowly weeping wound in her chest, where once warmth had settled and grown.
It was not to say that she would ever voice how she felt aloud, her reasoning two-fold as her line of affections; one, she would firstly have to really admit to herself that she was capable of sensations other than anger, gratification, and lust, and two, that Psyche herself may disown the brindled mare if she were to openly display such signs of weakness. Had Illynx known or been capable to pry into the black mare's head, however, she would have discovered exactly the opposite - and precisely why she and the Dark Empress made such a fine set of companions, down to the timing of their mutual disappearances. "It is a good home, once you get used to it." stated the white trimmed queen, and Illynx nodded her agreement slowly, just as the pair of them synced into thoughts of the Edge; it did not create feelings of regret in her, however, merely stemmed feelings of aggression (perhaps because of the newness of the wound) towards those who had come to take what was not rightfully theirs and filled it with mixed blood filth. "Any place free of over-sized turkey vultures and earth wallowers is a good enough place," she concluded, more for herself than for Psyche, though she looked coyly towards the black mare; a soft apology lingered behind the golden laced lady's features for having abandoned her companions at their time of need. Illynx still skirted her foaling ground with a wide berth to avoid sighting the blasphemy that had over run it, her ire filled heart too eager to rush in, swords blazing, only to be over run by parasites in the end.
Still, one could not trump a martyrdom, and surely it would ease the guilt she now felt, running her eyes across Psyche's face and finding the frowning visages of all those who had been forced from their homes.
The conversation then took its turn to present events, a list of things that defined the haunted expression just behind the jovial smile of companionship that lingered upon Psyche's features; it would seem things were both very much the same and very different from when Illynx had taken her leave. She nodded in remembrance of Mauja, the spotted stallion that led at Psyche's side, the few adventures that their ragtag band had partaken of in her absence, and stood staring blankly at the mention of doppelgangers. The thought alone made her mildly irate- another temptingly gorgeous, golden patterned mynx parading around Helovia being nice to the feathered mutants made Illynx feel dangerously challenged, not to mention offended.
Knowing full and well that there were those walking among them who could speak to Gods and foretell the future, it was all the more unsettling to think that it was yet unresolved. A dark magic, she figured, but what sort? Perhaps it was the very land itself revolting against the way the breeds mingled with one another, their blood lines becoming such a muddy pool that Illynx wondered if she and her companions in the Plague would die the last pure unicorns on the earth. Or, in the case of the sun god's wrath, it was merely a cruel jest being played upon the mortals by their creators; neither to her really seemed all that likely. The last God to play king of the mortals got cast into solitude for the rest of eternity by his brethren; she found it rather hard to believe that another immortal would be so foolish as the Sun God. "Are there no leads as to their origin?" she queried, knowing full and well that there more than likely weren't, or Psyche would have shared. A frown creased her face, ears tilting back slightly in thought, and worry, "I know our priorities should be gaining and focusing the power of our movement... but this sounds incredibly, well, dangerous Psyche." And to Illynx, dangerous generally meant lucrative.
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