She felt his words usher across her skin in a single wave of tingles, his smile so delightfully roguish in the blue tinted light of the ice, though she did not waver an inch despite the bold statement hidden away in the folds of his speech. She drew closer than she had initially intended to, brightly painted orbs nearly flickering with the pleasure she had drawn, already, from this conversation with Déodat and his wonderfully silver tongue. The chocolate minx had always been one to approve of flattery, especially when she was the focal point; her ego was a feisty and rather needy creature, constantly crooning in the back of her mind for the slightest bit of attention, and at this moment in time it quietly smirked rather than mewled. She tucked her nose under in a feigned blush, her long black forelock cast in a thin sheet across her gaze as an innocent and almost benign smile lingered upon her lips, the tip of her long golden horn tracing a line along the cold blue wall, though she was rather tempted to have used the curved and sumptuous sinew of Déodat's deep red shoulder. "Something tells me this ice is far from chaste, sir," sweetly sang the tones of Illynx, her eyes still cast to the aquamarine surface of the tunnel, peering back at his after a moments pause with a youthful shine that was uncharacteristic of her actual age.

And while she played these games, all the while in the back of her head she giggled in amusement at how heavily her allusion had lied about the truth of her being; she had never known the embrace of another, nor love beyond that which she felt for her family and those whom she had grown up with. That she was a maiden was perhaps a stretch - she had done much tempting in her years - but there had never been fulfillment of all the hours of eyelash batting and ego stroking that she had made ever so many a man endure over her thirty-two seasons, and maidens were highly unlikely to stick you in the gut for being anything less than prince charming as Illynx was. But still, what the soldier did not know would not hurt him, at least if he was smart enough to sense the snares she laid at his feet. “I am Déodat- yours to command at will Corporal Illynx.” Another tender shiver upon her spine, the fires crackling within her gaze reaching a peak for a mere half-second as she felt her mind flex itself around the control that statement had given her, even if it had no truth behind it other than a loyalty to their positions within the herd.

Perhaps, an amused smile tracing itself upon her lips, he will lay his own traps for me. His handsome face turned to observe further down the tunnel, the mare moving her own body so as to provide a clear path should he decide to venture further in; she herself had only ever been so far back as where the light gave way to pitch darkness, and having no means of not ascertaining she wouldn't snap her limbs in two with a misstep, she had always turned back. The Corporal did not think that he would be so easily amused by the wilds of Helovia as she was, judging by the mildly dispassionate gaze that he cast to the ice, but she had to admire him for at least attempting to humor her, and with his attention still intact. There were many an occasion when she had let the words "in one ear and out the other," as some would say, when she found herself less than amused by a conversation, but it would seem that the tri-hued stag either had better manners than she did or was just as entertained by the situation as she was.

Rather clever, as well, she found herself thinking, the mentioning of a storm brushing off of Déodat's lips with such ease and expertise that she wondered just how much fun she would truly have playing cat and mouse with this one. "Certainly," she said, her voice supple in the chilled air, rotating one of her ears to catch the sounds of the air outside, and found that perhaps he wasn't even making up the circumstance; a rumbling of thunder could be hear distantly, and a heavy static seemed to permeate the air. While Illynx was not the superstitious type, it could be said that those who had been born in Helovia did have a certain obligation to see things as more than mere coincidence, having lived most of their lives among divine beings of such immense strength that whole herd-lands had been rendered barren by their wrath. Then there were the side effects of such powerful magic that couldn't, or hadn't, been kept under check, such as the mimics or various other calamities that had struck the continent throughout its existence, but we digress. Illynx did not view this storm as a coincidence, by any means. It was either a well contrived plan of the white splashed Déodat, who would had to have been tailing her since early this morning when she had begun her routes, or it was nature's way of telling the two of them that they must come to know one another. She looked over the soldier's face with softly shimmering eyes, searching for any hidden knowledge or thoughts, and found only that his gaze was intent upon hers and sent a hot wave of something straight into her belly. No, this one was not a stalker, she didn't think, which almost made her lower lip pout out despite the warmth of their conversation; she did not think she really had enough time on her brow for more friends.

"It is rather fortuitous a circumstance to have both company and shelter for a storm," she mused to the handsome male, "I have never been much for cold rain, and you seem warm enough to me." A coy grin found a place upon her maw, bodice rotating so that she faced towards the depths of the cave but still could gaze upon Déodat, one hoof leisurely rested upon its point as white plumes trailed from her nostrils. She was aware it probably would not be rain here, but snow; a type of precipitation that could leave her and Déodat trapped in this tunnel until the God's foals were all well into adulthood, a mildly disconcerting thought that was eased slightly by her good humor towards the tri-colored unicorn. A good space stood alongside her, a part of her heart wishing he would come to stand nearer to her and another requesting that he stay right where he was, her brain flickering back to her prior thoughts on coincidence, and the lack there of. Either way, their conversation would be dry and lack luster if she didn't find some thread of amusement to tug upon, and so she searched her brain for suitable topics, deciding upon an attempt to truly get to know the soldier with the partially transparent horn. "I have spent much of my life here," she began, "and the ice seems to hold my fascinations as strongly as the first time I saw it, some several months old." It had been her father who had brought her here, an old ache stitching itself into her chest as she remembered his face, and how very large he had seemed standing in the blue and yawning mouth of the tunnel. "Perhaps it is just ice to you, but to me...I believe it is the spirit of our people. It is ancient, beautiful, and dangerous," her eyes traveled upwards, to a large ice spear that jutted from the ceiling of the cave, it's tip sharp and deadly as it gleamed in the afternoon light that filtered in from the mouth. "But mostly I see that it's convictions are strong. The unicorns of Helovia are water that has filtered into the cracks of the rocks. But me, the others of our brotherhood, we are the ice that grew and shattered the stone that others had only slowly eaten away at." Her eyes hardened as she returned her gaze to that of indigo pooled Déodat, searching his face for the understanding in her logic, the innocent game that had been played before with her light hearted query now hardened in the face of the truth of the glow behind her gaze as she looked upon the ice. Among their members, few were truly hardened enough to be of much assistance, Illynx able to vouch only for herself and their leaders, Mauja and Psyche (mostly Psyche, in Illynx's opinion), having seen none of the others on field before. But, she had seen this one at the meeting; he had to know that the Plague was facing the threat of discovery by the Throat just as well as she did, surely understood the dark gleam that now hung within her eyes as she spoke with veiled words, distrusting that there were no ears but the glass horned stallion's to hear them, acutely aware of how words traveled in cavernous spaces.

She culminated her thoughts into a question, her hips tilting slowly and with much emphasis on curvature as she switched the hoof that she held at rest, "Tell me, Déodat, are you ice? Or merely snow? As I fear that our brethren is melting away, becoming nothing but a puddle of water collecting in a Basin." She giggled to herself, amused by her play on words, also firmly believing that this particular man was very much ice, her eyes softening slightly as she ran them across his well toned physique once more. "Like I said before..." she mused, her dark locks falling from her golden eyes as her head tilted playfully, "I don't much care for cold precipitation."

[ OOC: I do not know how I feel about this one. :/ Illynx is a weirdo is all I can decide to myself. ]