Chill is like the breath of death upon the nape of her neck, prickling her skin and playing shivers down her canvas like a ballad constructed by delicate bows across a cello's strings. There's something odd and beautiful about the caress of snow upon the earth, when the wind lies still. Let it not fool any, however, for in moments the bareness of the normally protective trees will mean your health, storms of ice and frost slinking in shadows to prey upon the innocents who are unprepared for such dark times. It draws the dark mistress from her home, a sapphire and ebony princess on an expanse of white and grey. Nostalgic, perhaps? In such weather she too had arrived, found by Rafe and Ktulu and led on to be enveloped by the Grey. Heart twinges, and the growing polar bear cub at her side whines softly into the sharp air in concern. He is unbothered by the frozen wasteland, while his disparagingly thin mistress is sure to find the season hard. Shushing him softly, the poisoner drifted as a silent shadow through the world, but the weather would not hold for long.
Snowclouds darken, thunder rolls ominously, and soon she and her child prince are caught in the snare of weather she had been musing over moments earlier. Audits pin into the depths of her mane, violet irises squinting into the sting of rain. It is too far to turn back towards home, for the land is large, and she knows she might as well finish her journey before doing so. It would be the same amount of time regardless. Together the cub and the vixen pressed on, just as silent as before. Enduring.
Silence, too, does not last for long. Crown rises sharply, bare face upturned and ears flickering like obsidian wings of a hummingbird, catching a cry that stirs an instinct in her that she has always been weak towards. A child, voice squeaky and scared, surely younger than a quarter of a year. Crashing through her barrels concern, the sweet faces of Roskuld, Ranjiri, Raeden, and Hotaru flashing in her memories. They are held so dear to her heart, and knowing the one in distress is frail as them and younger, blood runs faster and heart rate quickens. First her frozen hooves move tentatively, trying to find that sound again, and then she is jogging, running, nearly sprinting to try and find the lost lamb who cried so fearfully into the storm. Lakota had wanted foals of her own her entire life, been denied them while she watched her lover die, and if this tiny soul had been abandoned she would tear the world to shreds trying to find his or her parents in order to show them the fury of the killer inside her.
Slowing only when blurry forms meet her gaze, Lakota and Aodaun approached somewhat warily; large, crowned form stood quite near a tinily framed child swathed in moonless night and draped in part by colored pinprick stars. His voice is the one she hears first, though the torn wails for a mother's comfort shred her soul long after they've faded. Persephone, he titles her, when her lyrics have not given their true name. Dread settles in her belly strangely, recalling tales from prisoners and war victims, surrendered parties who had been forced into her herd. The name is not unfamiliar to her, but it was not something her original family had practiced or believed in. All she can recall is that Persephone was a child of beautiful weather, who had been stolen away and confined every year at winter's break by a horrible ruler of the underworld, whose name she couldn't recall. Had he spoken it, it would have triggered a memory like the previous name past his lips, but as they converse Slaiter is the only other he offers. A rabbit, slain, lay at the convex of their hooves, and she gave a shudder of disgust. Living with a half-wolf did not turn her nose, but a gift of such a thing to a child...but, the happy display of movement from the stallion is at odds with his macabre offerings and ominous gifting of name. It is here she approaches, favoring neither side and approaching instead as the tip of a triangle, gaze on the little one.
Ao is commanded to stay at her back heels, not wanting to alarm the little princess. Warm smile, so abnormal to any who knew her, soothed her face into beauty and elegance rarely used. Crown is lowered in offering, lowering herself to the filly's height so as to appear less threatening. "Hello princess, I'm Lakota, and this is Aodaun my companion." Ao bumbled forward, body wriggling in a canine fashion but knowing not to rush forth or come too close too soon. Eyes then flickered to Slaiter, head rising once more to greet him as well. "Salutations to you as well, Slaiter. Persephone...it is a name I have not heard in a long while. Do you fare well in this weather? Are you in need of shelter, even if temporarily?" Often Lakota was misunderstood, thought to be cold from the start, but she was an aristocrat and royalty at heart. Do you think her prestigious family would led the woman who would become Queen after their deaths be impolite and cruel upon first meeting? No. She may be in most situations, but foals touched her where she was kind and warm, and the childlike appearance of the stallion's visage only served to change her Threshold greeting further. Not that she'd been cruel towards Circe or Murdock either, so really you only got bit if you gave her something to aim for.
Swiveling to an angle where her words would touch both of them, she spoke over the raging of the wind without resorting to yelling, not wanting to scare them off or find her a threat. "This storm may last quite a while. Princess- Katria, if I heard right?- where is your mother? Father? Is there anyone I can take you to, or help you return to your home? You will freeze in this weather," she said softly, concern in her features. It lingered when she turned to Slaiter, wishing she could feel with more than the heart of a mother who had never been blessed with a foal. Addressing him now, she gently placed her words upon him, knowing what she would say was delicate of nature. "She's too young to stay warm. Would you be willing to shelter her between our sides, together? I am a healer, but I cannot take the chill of hypothermia as well as physical touch can." It would block the wind from either direction and offer body heat as well. Lakota thanked her nostalgia for bringing her there, hoping she could be of some use. Every name of every Foothills foal danced in her ears, their childish laughter and huffy advances so familiar. It made her ache to know someone would willingly abandon the one soul that loved them blindly and without reason, the one that relied on them so heavily they would wilt should attention be withdrawn.
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OOC: Hope you don't mind me hopping in? ^^; Kota needs to get about again, and nostalgia/momma instincts was a good starter for me. If you do I'll remove it <3
...also woah, haven't used this table in forever .___.
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