He was right - it didn't take long before we found the single path leading to the Basin. I trudged up it, looking through my bonded's eyes to make my way along the trail. Archeon stopped and waited for me, slinking through my legs as we stuck to the shadows. Surely it was no secret they were there though, Deimos probably was on his scent already. A toss of his head and the pair move on, ignoring the boarders. Archeon presses into my mind nervously as we cross them but I have no worries. I am apart of the Plague. I must be welcome.

I hear Deimos. So, he is Lord now. I smirk. Well done, uncle. I think and Archeon looks up at me. My tail brushes him slightly and his flames erupt across his body. He must know I am here. Still, I stick on the edges to listen as he talks to the herd. Psyche has left.. where has she gone? It crosses my mind that there has not been a Plague meeting in quite some time. Archeon relays the last one back to me- the memory foggy from young age. I nod once to him. "Generals and corporals will be determined by a tournament between the eager. Inform us if you are interested in either." I grin, yes that would be perfect. General Zar'roc, reporting for duty.

I wait until the voices die down, and Deimos speaks once more. I then slide out of the shadows, Archeon strutting out along with me and I want to slap him. Why. Why here? Why now? I ignore the little shit and one corner of my mouth curves up. "Sorry I am late to the party, Lord." I force myself to dip my head to him, cringing ever so slightly but hiding it by turning to the crowd of followers and then looking at him again. "I am interested in becoming a General, if I am so feasible." I declare simply, flicking my tail back and forth, golden orbs scanning the herd. I did not know most of these horses here.

As I stand and wait for Deimos to wait again, my mind wanders to Archeon's, his thoughts jumbled and too happy. I blink to focus back into my own mind, glass encased horn dangled horizontal when I look at him and nudge him softly. Are we going to live here? Most probably, Archeon. He shudders, flames dancing across his much larger form - when will he stop growing? What is it? I ask, eyes narrowing slightly. I have to live in this? In the snow?! In the cold?! But my fur- my my flames- my fur! He stutters angrily, and I can't help but laugh. He cared about self image - what his fur will look like when wet with snow? I lost it, a laugh erupting from my figure and I quickly tamper it down. He glares at me, chest expanding with a sigh as he turns his glare to the ground at his feet, butt falling to the ground heavily as he roughly accepts the news. Am I really permanently stuck with this thing?