You walk along, showing the mare you found in the Threshold back to the Forest. Porcelain. She told you her name but.... well, it's long gone. She looks like a doll anyway, pale as she is with her little marking. You snort. You guess this temporary leader thing is going alright. Besides the stupid little filly that interrupted your weird semi-herd meeting, everything is pretty normal. You're getting high (although not quite as high as you'd like), the acid mare is busy... well, being a freak, and the Phantom Seeker is busy pouring sugar all over anybody who will listen. Of course, the rest are busy as well, doing whatever it is they do. You snort again and look back, horns glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Porcelain is still there.

With a sigh, you notice that the trees have become thicker and the general feeling of hope and happy days as left. You have breached the Deep Forest. The place is anything but comforting, the darkness deep and the trunks close together. But it is good enough for home. Realizing you're probably supposed to be talking, but you're not very good at this whole recruiting thing, you grunt and search your brain for some words. “So, uh... Welcome home. This is the Deep Forest. My group, the Asylum, lives here.” You snort sharply and then add on quickly, “We'll find a real home soon.” You don't really care one way or the other, but no sense in scaring away the girl that just got here.

Regardless, you really need some drugs. This whole act of being amiable is beginning to wear on your nerves. You dip your head into your bag, which is obnoxiously over-full with the orb you stole from Ampere, and drag out a couple of vines to munch on. Interestingly, you notice that your orb is getting a little.... warmer? Is warmer the right word? You don't think so. It's glowing a little, humming or vibrating even? You don't really understand but it shocks you enough to make you stop. Something weird is going on.

“Uh,” you manage to sputter out unintelligibly before deciding it's probably best to get your man-bag off your shoulder. In one, well-practiced motion you slide the leather over your head and let it slowly slide to the ground, nosing the orb from its place in the leather and almost forgetting that Porcelain is watching. In no time at all, the orb is glowing and growing, a crack forming down its center and before you know it the thing is out, though what the thing is you have absolutely no idea. What the hell did you steal?

Your brown eyes stare hard, trying to make sense of what you are seeing, a shadow-like wisp of darkness that has risen from the broken remains of the shell, floating before you, and all at once you feel your mind flooded with the presence of another. You balk, stumbling back several steps, as the thing follows, appearing as barely a waver in the air. Is this... Is this yours? She. Is she yours. You know almost instantly, though you're not sure how, that the thing is a female. Eyes wide with fright that your mind could be held by someone other than yourself, you narrow your eyes. You never even wanted her to begin with. What gives her the right?

@[Elsa]- I decided to kill two birds with one stone and have his companion born, hope you don't mind!!

Oxy the Weird. You're trying. Really, really hard. The social thing just doesn't work with you. No matter what, you can't seem to figure it out. And really, causing chaos and general disarray is much more entertaining. Whats the point of being nice and flowery all the time? It just seems so.... boring. So normal. And you're definitely not normal. So whatever Porcelain was expecting, you hope it isn't too different from what you're giving her. She's the one that agreed to follow you after all. But anyways. The floating thing.

Porcelain waves her wings about nervously and if you had any wings, you'd be flapping them about too. But you only have horns, and teeth. And you're just about to use them when all of the sudden Procelain's speaking. Finally. That's pretty? Ok. Clearly she's just as confused as you are. Great. Now you have to be annoyed that some new presence, some creature, has invaded your mind AND you have to explain what's going on. Which, you don't actually know what's going on, other than you suddenly have a companion and... You have no idea. You just snort and grind your teeth, angrily eying the black wisp of nothingness that floats before you. How dare it.... exist.

Or not. Now she's chattering on again and you grunt, torn between biting the shit out of your new companion and listening to what Porcelain is saying. You decide to compromise by laying your ears back and glaring at the wispy mass, then turning to Elsa a moment later. “We're a bunch of...” You could put it nicely, say mentally troubled or emotionally disturbed horses, but you don't. Because you're Oxy. “Nutjobs.” But you decide with a sigh you better not scare her off before she even meets the rest of the crew. “And a couple normal horses that need some counseling or something.” Maybe she'll think you're lumping her in with the latter group. To be honest, you think that anybody that follows you falls under the category Nutjob. As you finish, an unpleasant pressing against your mind is given by the boggart that is floating ever nearer. It demands attention. You shove back with your mind, a mass of anger and annoyance, hoping it will leave you alone.

As for the plants... You've never really been shy with your habit, but you're not too keen on sharing either. You grab the bag with your hoof and drag it closer, standing on it so she won't get the wrong idea. The wrong idea about stealing them, that is. “Drugs.” Well, there it is. You rumble in your chest, brown eyes looking for her pale ones, wondering what sort of reaction she might have to that. The boggart pushes back at your mind in retaliation for your earlier attack. You grind your teeth, still contemplating biting at it. Stupid companion.

Giggles. That's not exactly what you were expecting when you mentioned what was in your bag, but giggle she does and you raise a quizzical eyebrow to her laughter. After a moment, though, you just shake your head and reach your muzzle down to force your bag back over your shoulder. You feel a little naked without it, truth be told. In her eyes, while you're dong this, you see something odd. And if you weren't so distracted by the unwelcome presence of the wisp's mind within your own, you might recognize the look as one of spunk, one of wanting to snap at you for being a moron. That last one isn't really new, of course. Regardless, preoccupied as you are, you don't notice much about her until she speaks again.

That thing looks to be annoying you, she offers and you roll your eyes. Annoying isn't quite the word. It won't leave. Its mind connected to yours, its blatantly childish feelings invading your own, making you feel... small, because she feels small. And so, in answer to Porcelain, if she had any doubt about you not liking the wisp, you reach out, mouth open, and you clamp down. On your companion. Who you officially isn't your biggest fan either. Pain, searing pain. You feel it too. Through her, into you. It's certainly a strange way to feel pain.

But anyways, Porcelain. Now it's your turn to laugh, and you do, a deep grumbling noise that bursts forth from your mouth in odd chops, the mind of your companion once again invading your mind, feeling around, trying to assess you, trying to know you. You wish you could resist, but you can't. “Rank? Not yet. I'll be your general one day, though.” You say the words with determination. You are not unsure of yourself. You know that you will lead the warriors, drug habit or not. “We already have somebody that stands in the forest and looks pretty.” It's supposed to be a joke... you're not very funny though. Oh well. “What do you want to do anyways? I'll tell you who's in charge of you.” And then, just to make sure she knows what kind of things there are, you rattle them off. “We've got warriors, thieves, doctors, crafters and.... scholars.”

Procelain's ok, as far as horses go.

Stuttering. She doesn't know what she wants to do? You can't imagine. You've known what you want to do since... well, since forever. Ok, so maybe not since forever, but close enough. Even since you were little, ever since you stumbled on those plants you carry in your bag, you've known. You fought. You had to fight, you had to be mean, be cruel, pull your ears back against your head, shun the others before they could shun you. You became a warrior because you had to, but you found you like it, found you wanted it, found you needed to be better, strove to be victorious, ached to be the champion. Horns in muscle, hooves on flesh, teeth on fur. Each motion, each dance, each step. You were made for fighting. It is in your soul.

As for her. She wants.... to be a scholar? A diplomat? You snort, try to choke back laughter, and fail. Whoops. You're not exactly laughing at her. It's more like you're laughing at yourself. You're trying hard, right now, to be a diplomat, to bring new members to the herd, and you're clearly not doing so hot. But it's something, and it's better than nothing. “The Phantom Seeker,” you say to her then. Circuta. You don't know her real name yet, but you know the way her voice drips with sugar, the way her body moves against the ground, the way her eyes fall upon your body and watch you. You lust for her, if only for this moment. “She's head of thieves and diplomats. You might find the Lesbians too, though. Rose Red and Glass Horn.” Their names? Also unknown. Eris and Seele.

“But if you ever need to train, find me,” you say with a grunt, just as the wisp starts dancing about your nose and you flail your head like a moron. Good work.