As her queen finally halted the mad to and fro of her bodice, Illynx watched the large, misty plumes emanating from her nostrils with eyes that wondered if maybe Psyche did not have the right idea, after all. A shiver ran its way up one of the corporal's shoulders. despite her attempts to suppress it, while the ebonite Empress stood tall and regal, not a trace of chill upon her, though Illynx noticed also the thickness of her pelt, earned from the amount of time she spent here in the mountains, tending to her flock. Not that many of them really needed tending of the the typical sense, as most of the unicorns of the Basin seemed to be rather self sufficient to the point of being hermetic, especially her brothers and sisters of the Plague, and most exclusively the handful of advisers and the Lady and Lord themselves needed absolutely no care made for them. And so why was Illynx here, fretting her pretty little head over the broiling thoughts of Psyche, who surely, of all the unicorns of the mountain, needed her less than anyone else?

The corporal found her reasons bi-fold, the first being simply that of all of Helovia and the realms known beyond, before her stood the only being she would willingly bleed for aside from herself. Not Mauja, not handsome Déodat, and not melancholy Ares, but Psyche, the woman who had lost nearly as much as she had in her life and still rose from the ashes, their bodies ablaze and writhing for reprisal of that which the world had taken from them. Together, along with the others of the organization, they even attempted to right the wrongs done upon them by history itself, an event that had been out of the teeth long before any of them were born, even Myrddin (a smile found it's place upon her now as she mused as to the elderly Haruspex's true age).

All the while as she thought she listened with an aud raised to the words of Psyche, her mind, as usual, a tumble of thoughts and ruminations about life, her surroundings, and the conversation at hand. It would seem the situation had not bettered for her people since their last meeting within her den, the night of her arrival to Helovia, but worsened, and the lack of solidity behind all the chaos made Illynx uneasy within herself; she did not doubt her own strength, nor did she that of Psyche or the others of the Plague. It was the others, the grey minded, the white minded, the faces ringed around the springs that did not have hearts like hers, spineless fish in a world of sharks. "It will fade or we will all starve," she mused, golden orbs running across the inky black dome above them, knowing that only certain vegetation could flourish in moonlight and not enough to support the populace of Helovia, "either way I will no longer be so cold. I will grateful." Her smile was cheeky and humorous as she returned her eyes to the watchful Psyche, who observed the pitch black ring of the Basin with a gaze that expected anything from a pine cone to a hundred wolves to roll out of the forest at any moment; Illynx didn't worry so much about this. She knew it was damnably cold at the foot of the mountain, as well, and that their enemies were shivering in their steadfast positions just as they were up here, and certainly would not be venturing any further north than was necessary at this time, their homes not providing for the thick winter attire that those of the Basin gained while living in one of the most chilly locations in Helovia. And, even if they were truly wolves, how long would they last against a herd of this size with such a vast collection of blooded unicorns?