A glimmer, there in the roots of the nearest felled tree, to the left around the earth-eaten corpse of the long since deceased dragon. She skirted the shape of the bones, a mild discomfort at being so close to the lifeless colossus, the mare not quick to forget how easily the monstrosity had drop kicked Arah all the way across the field that it's body had come to it's final rest in. The dark, earth stained base of the uprooted tree grew more clear to her sight, already well adjusted to the blackness of the world, the nearer she came, until finally, the gleam gave sight to an intriguing bit of metal work nestled in it's tangles. A dark tinted muzzle pressed aside the roots that blocked the object from freedom, her teeth clenching tightly about its firm substance and tugging it free, dropping it at her hooves to examine more closely.

Silvery metal, the same hue as the pendant she had found waiting for her in the moss covered cave back at the basin, it's shape a serpentine that seemed perfectly fitted for a limb. Growing more curious, she lowered her gaze to inspect the pendant like objects at the end of the band's arms, circular, inscribed with various markings and inlaid with sapphires that caught the starlight like bright, blue embers. And the pearls; she had only ever seen one, fortunate enough to observe after stepping and crushing open a clam while walking the beach (if you could call it that, the muscle of the beast was rather squishy and repugnant). That pearl had been her mothers; long since lost to the soil of the Edge, which had reclaimed not only her dam's body but all her worldly possessions.

Grasping it once more in her teeth, the mare turned her head about to hind right leg, sliding the loops over the muscle gently and with a bit of struggle. It's cool surface held firm against her flesh, the bend of her gasket and hock holding the trinket in place. She took a moment to admire it's sparkle against the wood-like hues of her limb, the contrast of the silvery metal to her gold dipped appendages. She found that she was rather in love with the piece already, and so it was no surprise that she did not hear the approach of Castiel, and that his words immediately set her ears back upon her delicate tiara, a harshness entering her gaze as the sweetly feminine features of the Lady turned about to glare at the painted stallion.

"This? This is mine," she sharply retorted, the friendly nicker he had sent her way sweeping over and above her head as her nose bluntly gestured towards her new found trinket. As the words died upon the air, however, she noticed that he looked not at her tree treasure, but at the skeleton of the dragon. Her angry visage instantly dropped, replaced instead with a sheepish smile that betrayed her embarrassment as she tested the air for the stranger's odor. He had called himself Castiel, the name familiar, which meant only one thing; he had been a member of the Basin at one point. But judging by the ruggedness of his condition and the odor of wilderness that penetrated his musky, male scent, he no longer lived there, but here, alone.

She wondered if he would regret his decision to travel as an outcast when she informed him of what, precisely, the overgrown shrubbery was concealing.

"Well, those," she began, a devious little smirk crossing her lips and her gaze turned, momentarily, towards the massive corpse, "are the bones of dragon. Ruka slayed the beast, but many of the Basin came to the aid of the mountain; myself included." Turning her bodice so that she might more clearly see and speak to Castiel, Illynx let her cruel smile slide away, "Perhaps the greatest foe I have even encountered in my life. I wear the marks to prove it." Her right forelimb was raised, a quirky and humorous expression marking her visage as she nodded downwards toward the white, splotchy scars all along her four golden legs. They lined her underbelly, also, but unless Castiel was willing to lie on his back while she stood over him, he'd never see those, and she sure as hell wasn't going to roll over for a turn-cloak.

"Illynx the GildedBlade," sternly stated the Lady, not wishing to draw out her most proud title as of yet in case the stallion had friends waiting in the shadows to ambush her. He seemed friendly enough, but she knew all to well that smiles were simply tools to disarm the weak hearted and easy to trust. A light breeze lifted her dark mane from the sinewy bend of her neck, the golden lock blending intricately with the ebonite strands, her forelock cast before her equally preciously hued gaze. "I do not believe we've met, though we once shared a home."