The Gods were his friend today. They had left, and with them, magic. The stallion had decided long ago that he hated magic, that nothing good could ever be wrought from it, that had magic not existed all those season ago he would never have been able to be cursed, and therefore never have had to leave his wonderfully privileged life behind. With his recent struggles at the peak of the Heavenly Fields still fresh in his mind, he was reeling with the implications of this darkness. Since leaving those fields, orb-less and friendless still, the stallion had spiralled further down into his pit of self-loathing despair, his one chance of finally meeting his end in this world being ruined by a God determined to seal the rifts between dimensions. Perhaps in that other world, magic did not exist, and he could have lived as he was supposed so. But no, he was forced to remain here, 'blessed' with an extra sense of knowing when there was a rift nearby, or a being who had been fortunate enough to travel through a rift and into their world, here, in Helovia.

So when the mother of all rifts had been sealed up, and all the magic taken away from the lands with its closure, Kirottu was not sure whether to despair at his chance of escaping the lands forever being taken away from him, or that the departure of magic from the lands could be permanent. He wandered the Meadow with his nape arched and horn held proudly afore him, striding long, confident steps as he followed the lit path, easily imagining that the strange lanterns were there just for his royal blood to use in passing. As the minutes, hours and days dripped by without the hint of the Sun ever rising (nor the Moon for that matter), he became more and more jubilant, convinced that his curse had been broken at last, that he had defeated it - not once did he suspect that all the magic had left the lands, nor that it might ever return, such was his ignorance. Violet eyes peered ahead of him in the darkness, the black abyss slowly becoming something he was swiftly embracing - for if it meant he could exist curse-free then it was perfectly acceptable to him.

Hypersensitive to sounds and movements thanks to the imposed blindness, he swivelled his majestic crown about with a flourish of platinum mane and tail, attempting to pinpoint the location of such hesitantly given greetings and sentences. When the sweet harmony of lyrics coated the air and danced to his ears, he nearly wept for the happiness that filled him. Their previous encounter had been marred by an argument over magic, over its power and understanding, but surely, with that segment removed from the list of variables, she would see him for what he truly was, a precious, regal steed of nobility and greatness, instead of one troubled by constant threats of the Sun rising and stealing away his perfect form. Deviating from the path was then made by cloven hooves, as eyes surrounded by crinkling, warm laugh lines scraped the zone for her dark form. It was the vixen Imogen he saw first however, her pale hide clearer against the darkness than the mare's warm chocolate, his nares detected her too, more sensitive to the scent of predator than they were his fellow prey comrades.

"Lena!" He greeted her warmly, his tones rich with happiness and thick with honeyed welcome. "And Imogen, of course. How are you?" Even as he asked the question he moved to sidle up to her, to assume that she would accept him, that she would see his magnificence unplagued by paranoia and simply want to be near him. With a glance given to the others present, he offered a charming grin upon silver lips, vaguely making out the shape of a pegasus and a fellow unicorn, though otherwise unable to discern any colourful features due to the sheer darkness. "And hello to you in these dark times." He spoke rather cheerfully. "I am Kiro." He did not offer a nod of his head, nor barely a second glance as he turned his crown back to the young bay maiden by his side. "I hope you've not gotten lost, m'lady?"