Nothing had truly changed since the weak being he once had been had turned and fled the land he now stood firmly rooted upon once more. Same frigid caress of the wind by morning, not that he was newly wakened. Depth of night had greeted him when mercury irises had met the glow of the betrayer's light. Nyx had chased away his slumber, arisen him into her domain, and he had listened acutely. It was not long for dawn, but it gave him time to wander the snowy mesa he once knew so well. Time had been given for re-acquaintance, and he had taken it, yet there were so many names and faces he no longer knew. When he had left, Mauja was worn and weary, but the crown was aloft upon his brow. Now, with a little questioning of Frost Fyre, there was a golden-gilded lady by the title of Illynx at rule, and as of the last herd meeting- one he had stubbornly not attended, for lack of desire to be found out of place in a home he had seen rise from nothing- Deimos was appointed Lord of the Basin through Psyche's disappearance. Now Tolio was no huge fan of Psyche, but she had been the one to fester his hatred, to lift him from weakness onto the path of power he now walked. A good leader, though one he had not sworn allegiance to, despite her ranking. She would be missed, in the passive way that Tolio could miss people.

Cavorting across the icy ground was not in his to-do list, so when the sky ran blood-orange red tinged with blushing rose and a hint of tangerine, an amusing soup of shades and variations of color, he decided it was best to rid the chill from his coat. Often times in the morning the springs were unoccupied, as the citizens were more often than not valiantly fighting off the chill as they curled up in their caverns trying to maintain the warmth they had garnered throughout the midnight hours.

Steam rose in obvious sign of the placement of the springs, warm fog rolling like playful ghost pups across the frigid landscape. In moments it would lift, disperse, and vanish. Striding through the intangible sight barrier, all that could be seen of his flesh was the crimson red of it, like newly spilled blood on a snowy canvas. Water would do him no good, merely enjoying the warmth the steam offered, not desiring the extra chill of cold air on stagnant water that held no more heat. There were so few around in the early mornings he didn't expect the figure to his left, passing easily and efficiently past him towards the golden fingers of sunlight poking and prodding through the cracks of the mountains as the sun rose ever higher. Intrigued by the flash of gold and amber, Tolio turned to follow her, facing the rising dawn alongside the nameless maiden. Or was she really so nameless? Her countenance was familiar enough, regaled in tales from a youth's lips. Was this the Illynx he had heard so much about from young Frost?

Rare to find such peace on a morn like this. Rumbling from his chest, his voice is smooth and deep, though unused to verbalization. With so few in this herd whom he still remembers, and who would remember him, it has not seen much action in the past season. Chuckling softly he looked to the lass not far from his side- of course he had given her space, he didn't want to get a horn to the gut, and he'd met some pretty testy people before- and realized that speaking had effectively broken whatever tranquility she might have obtained. Apologies, I probably should have left you to it without my own intrusion. Shaking his crown, cropped mane as alert and perked as ever, he skated his gaze over the doe's similar golden stripe.

Tolio's the name. Been here since before the Basin was made, but not quite an ex-Edger. 's prolly my fault you don't know me, I'm not much for announcing my presence. By chance are you Illynx, the Lady of the Basin? Curious silver orbs turned to face her, brow quirked and lips set in a subtle, but charming, smile. Might as well try and give a good first impression, right? He'd probably screw it all up within a moment as it was.

Aureate dame pulls closer, a smile both serene and sly upon her face, and he looks down at her slighter frame with acceptance, and perhaps a tinge of amusement. His body warmth is for her to take, the cold has never been something to bother him too extremely. Clicking heels against the heated stones he moves towards her in tandem, allowing her to decide how close they'll end up. Steam curls from her frame, illuminating her muscles and thickening her locks, which drape upon the warm rocks in their length. It's a far cry from his short, gravity-defying mane, bristled and jagged as if even his hair is dangerous. Somehow he thinks her smiles are not so common, and so he sends her a devilish grin in response, as if he has any other form of a smile. But his eyes are kind and intrigued by her demeanor, flinty and intelligent as they swoop over her bodice shamelessly. He hasn't enjoyed the company of another, much less a maiden, in quite some time. Despite his lack of care and tolerance for company, especially the irritating half-bloods of the lower valley, it wasn't always such a pain when he found a decent conversation partner. At least Illynx looked promising.

"Indeed," comes out as a purr, and his lips quirk in response. Laughter pours from her maw like a fountain, bright and breathless, and if he arches his neck curiously towards her, he does not care. She is quick to rectify his apology, and he chuckles in response, an echo to her feminine, lilting display of amusement. Oh I know, and if I was just trying to make an impression? There's a wicked, teasing curl to his lips, but it's all just harmless flirting. Many would gasp and clutch their bosoms to see him flirting with such a dangerous and important lass, but what's life without a little danger and garter-snapping?

Though he must admit, though she is loving when she speaks, there is something...familiar here. Psyche, his mind supplies, and his chuckle darkens in a sinister fashion. Beloved? I would happily do much worse things to many of them. Love 'em if you wish, but my loyalty is to m' leaders, and the rest of 'em can rot. Shrugging scarred shoulders it's obvious he doesn't care, and if Illynx takes it the wrong way, well...that was her decision. Ever since he had set foot in Helovia his alliance had been with Psyche and Mauja, then Psyche and Illynx. Nobody else meant a thing to him unless they had somehow impossibly managed to garner his elusive affection. The rest of his kin were not only troublesome and infuriating in their often-times idiotic cackling and blabbering, he would never trust them at his back unless they'd bled for him. Few had done so, and the same amount were the ones he actually gave a damn about.

Ah, so she was the Illynx that Frost had spoken of. He is ripped from his thoughts as she tries his name on her tongue, and he flashes her a cheerful wink and a grin. Sounds pretty on your lips, m'lady. But fear not, my acquaintance is hardly desirable to most, your time is better spent chasing after errant soldiers and planning wicked deeds, he laughed. The warm rocks and steamy air kept the chill away, and if he concentrated he could almost feel the heat seeping from her body to his, reaching out as if testing him without his knowledge. She was a beacon of golden light and warm mocha, eyes alight with noonday fire that glinted like a predatory cat's in the curling tendrils of steam around them. Tolio had no doubt he'd chosen right by deciding to accompany her that early morning.

Though it seemed she was curious as to just what he was doing about, at that exact time. Humming softly in his throat he moved from where he'd been observing her like a hawk in sparrow's colors, and gazed out across the fuzzy, steam-softened tundra. Usually, yeah. I don't like bein' idle, is all. Quieter at night, more peaceful. Call me paranoid but I don't like how few patrols there are at night, so I use 'em to keep me busy. Shrugging once more he turns his pale face to her, lopsided smile ghosting across his face as if unsure it really belonged there. Turning back rather quickly, though not in motion more in time span between the two, he stretches his aching shoulders, sore from long hours of pacing the borders and watching the skies. And you, miss Gilded? Fancy coming here every morn in hopes of spying my face? He contorts his visage as he says it, making himself look as dreadful as possible, hoping to get another pretty laugh from her throat.