Aviya moved swiftly across the Basin, a mission carved into the back of her mind. She was looking for her parents, looking for their guidance and training. She was growing stagnant, she needed something to get her moving in these times of hierarchy turmoil. Upon the wings and whispers of birds had she heard the rumors of Psyche's flee, of Deimos and Ulrik lifting to the throne, of a newcomer challenging the mad engineer. Oh, how it made her skin crawl and her blood boil with a desire to do something just as great. She knew within her heart of hearts that one of her parents would send her on a great journey, all for the glory and benefit of their unicorn blood. The thought sent her cloven hooves harder towards the scent of her father, caught in the delicate white of her dished face.

"Father." Aviya breathed as she stopped, just to the left on front of the crimson bay. However, just as quickly had she arrived, Ulrik also closed the distance between them. Dipping her head some, Aviya watched the bronze-panted beast speak with a sideways glance. Unaware of the past between the two, Aviya's cool exterior pushed aside the thought her eyes of ice moved back to her father. Like Ulrik had mentioned, something looked off with the doctor. Usually he was a figure of strength and passion, though undoubtedly mad and a bit bitter, but a darkness loomed over d'Artagnan that his daughter did not recognize. Flicking her frosted tail, the young princess waited for her father to speak.

Movement beneath the Engineer caught her attention, and Aviya turned her head fully to watch the adolescent hellhound move off. "How old is your hound, Ulrik?" She asked, looking up to the odd eyes of the dark stallion. Her informality was odd, but she felt no discomfort even in the presence of his Lordship. Aviya's question was smooth and quiet, the lace of her voice falling on velvet ears like delicate rain. That is what the mare seemed to be, delicate rain. Not many knew, however, the hurricane that could become the mad stallion's daughter. Aviya watched Ulrik with cold eyes, her body squared and balanced. There was a madness that Aviya deduced from behind the veils of the bronze-painted man, something resembling d'Artagnan in a way, but there was also power. The power of being. Honing on this, Aviya moved closer to the pair of stallions, tail swishing to match the swing of her young hips.

It would be a fallacy to assume that Aviya did not notice the toned muscle that rippled over the shoulders and hairy chest of the large black stallion. It was a physical strength, yes, but Aviya was drawn to it just as much as the strength of his mere presence. Closer now to him, Aviya hummed lightly before clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth. "Father, have you seen mother around?" She cooed, still watching Ulrik with a sideways glance.