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.