Illynx stands nearly motionless and with avid attention as the God stirs again, captured, as she always was, by the overwhelming sense of power that poured out from their veins. Physically, they were only hybrids, creatures with bodies that they could shape to better fit the mold of whatever species would earn them the affections of the mortals they wooed. Even she knew this, as little as she had bothered with the realm of magic and fancy in the land of her birth; it was simply something any good Helovian would know.

But the Lord Time wore a horn to appease both she and her blackened co-rulers standards of worthiness, and while he kept his wings hidden from her in the current meeting, she knew they were there, just beneath the flesh of his shoulder, and she smiles softly despite the horrific memories that flicker across the screen of her soul.

Her heart knows flight, too, Lord Time, though she wears only a horn. But… he already knows this, she concedes; he knows everything, surely, with his ability to slip to and from any given location on the time stream, one tiny fleck of a moment to another observed and recorded until all of the flecks were accounted for. It was madness, surely, to count all the grains of sand in the world, but she had a mild sense that the God before her was not entirely sane anyway.

She was generally good at picking these things out. Any sort of girl with a mouth and mind like hers had to be in order to stay alive.

A giggle of humor placed so aptly on the other divines of the land is stifled only by the sight of the powerful being’s tail flickering in agitation, replaced with a smirk that she softens with sad, compassionate eyes. She, too, knew what it was to have a life fall into nothing by none of her own doing, and while surely it was of no comparison to the turmoil that the Lord Time was currently dealing with (you know, a whole planet and every mortal on it), she could relate at least slightly.

And, she was pretty sure that she and the bringer of the storms would get along quite famously; she likes his sense of humor, how dry and biting it is even in the grasps of such despair.

Her rapt gaze does not break when he places World’s Edge and the Dragon’s Throat on her shoulders again, though she does feel the same pang of loneliness break through her as it always does when that stupid war is brought up. Not only hadn’t they won, but her darling had been replaced by the oafish and bleak creature that stood alongside her; what was worse, Torleik had explained a deeper truth to her replacement.

It went to the first man there.

Her head nods as she thinks the words, refusing to let her hate beat down on the sod she has been forced to suffer through. After all, he had at least listened to her and brought the others to safety – surely Lord Time wouldn’t be so benevolent if they had failed miserably at that task.

When he tells her of the new power is going to grant them for the journey, her eyes grow wide with interest; she is mostly of a warrior’s heart, but the Lady does have a streak of curiosity in her (and her belly rumbles from the lack of anything remotely edible in appearance down in these holes). Grass in the midst of winter, emerald and luscious as the dawn of summer, sounds like something she could kill for at the moment. "You are most kind, Lord of Storms," she purrs in response, an unbidden desire to indulge herself on something not glowing or odd scented leaking into the tones of her voice; after all, she hadn’t eaten a single mortal as a wraith, and she had been one of those for at least a week.

This girl is hungry – and she’s not so self centered to not realize that if she is, her people are, too.

Lord Time may take it the wrong way. She surely hopes he doesn’t.

As she has come to expect of the Lord, he quickly makes his exit, and she spares him but a single glance before return her eyes with a playful smile set on her lips back to the God.

Surely he knows all about how she feels about the Reaper, and he surely does not want to discuss it with her.

"I will ask questions while he gathers the others, I suppose. What conditions should we expect once we return to the Basin?" she asks after a nod of her head in gratitude, mostly meaning what sort of chaos the wraiths had unleashed upon their home. Should she expect half the forest to have burned to the ground, the majority of the caves collapsed and no longer of use for mining or residency?

What about her things, carefully stashed away in her own private cave?

It is too horrifying a thought to dwell on.

"I can think of no other inquiries but can add that I was infected, if there are any questions you may have as to what its like… being one," her gaze shudders away for a few seconds, more untamed and black thoughts curling through her mind, the memories of being the thing which desires only decay and demise. She is not the sort of girl who frolics through daisies, to be sure, but she certainly does enjoy the beauty in life and is loathe to assault those of her own species.

As that creature, nothing mattered but destruction; and it horrified her.