"I’m Illynx, by the way," she says not too far out into the walk, realizing that she had not given her name and had thus not received one for her new companion, either. Its probably a good sign that the conversation hadn’t been so lackluster as to require the boring exchange of names, but she doesn’t think of such things as she walks along, observing the passing foliage half heartedly with an occasional flash of her tail against her flanks to ward away hovering insects. They were a good many hours out from the first foothills of the mountain, and so she made good pace rather than rushing; it was senseless to charge home only to arrive so out of breath that she couldn’t explain anything that they looked upon.

She supposes she should also tell her new accomplice who she was aside from just a name, but she hesitates in fear that it will shatter any innocent banter they had shared or might share in the hours to pass; she does know, however, that the illusion will break as soon as they are home, and while it pains her to slip back into her ice laden crown, she resigns to the fact that she will eventually have to share the truth.

For now, they’ll carry on just the way they are.

"It’s a good distance from here," she says cheerfully, "you’ll know we’re close once we pass the great caverns made of ice, several miles into the tundra."

--- Time Elapse ---

The narrow path straightened and gained a more even pitch as they neared the last stretch of the mountain passes that led to the Basin, the warm wind eased into a crisp but still pleasant draft the further they climbed. Used to the walk, she kept her pace slow more for her companion than anything else; every so often, she warned of weak areas in the loose stone or where the drop would kill should they slip down. All the while, a pressure built in her conscious, one that reminded her she had to lose the informal guise she had worn for the duration of the day and resume her responsibilities.

Sighing, she pauses at a wide stretch several yards from the entrance, the bronze sentinel looming imposingly in the backdrop as she turns to look at Agrona, a smile on her face as she takes time to explain what the woman might expect within. "That’s it, just ahead," she begins, "inside you will find only unicorns. Its officers of mention are Torleik the Bloodskald, our General of forces, Mistress Lena, our head of physicians, and the head of crafters, Ulrik the Engineer and Farenjer the Weaver." Her smile is friendly as its always been, hiding her inner worry that the kinship she has felt with this humorous and clever woman will be lost in her next words. "We are led by Lord Deimos the Reaper, and myself, the Lady Guilded Blade."

@[Agrona]

She laughs lightly when Agrona slips and curses, not in a mocking sort of way; it is more the sound of one who once did the same thing dozens of times before learning precisely how to follow the bending back of the trails home. How many others has she brought here in her years? Surely not as many as some, but more than most, or so she likes to think; every face she remembers from the Threshold is dear to her, almost as if they were some sort of odd, abnormally born children to her, and as she casts her golden eyes back to watch the progression of the white haired Sparrow Chaser she cannot help but smile fondly as she quietly paints the image into her memory right above her strange but pretty name.

The only one she had ever been more excited about revealing the vale to had been Jorogumo, all those seasons ago, and that was probably only because it had been a child; Illynx had been robbed of much of her youth by fate’s cruel fingers, but what she had been gifted had remained in the front of her memories, perhaps mostly because she understood how malleable a young mind was, but also because there was something purely magical about being uncorrupted by age, as if the years were poison slowly sipped on until it finally stilled ones heart.

She might try, one day, to overcome her vulnerability to the callous embrace of age, but for now, it was enough to live in the moment, the soft light trailing down on their backs from above as she observes the changes flicker across the dark skinned one’s face as she realizes who she’s been walking with all this time.

The first comment to peer its voice from her awe draws a supple stream of laughter from the lips of the golden Lady, who had never quite thought of it that way. As she was concerned, it was a name she had chosen for herself, one placed on the lips of others by her whims to have it be so. "Perhaps it is so, though I never pondered it. It is a name I have quietly called myself for many years," her head tilts ever so slightly left, dark hair slipping across her burning, liquid metal gaze, ”though it seems more remember it now than before."

All the while she speaks, Agrona searches her figure, the Lady pleased when the stare invokes language rather than terse silence, the mostly strange mare smiling in good humor that she had been so fooled. Her next row of comments evokes another rippling array of laughter, the platinum plates flashing in the jiggling of her sides beneath the high sun.

"Why, dearest Jester, it seems your face has fallen off!" she giggles uproariously, arcing her own neck in good humor and accepting the closeness of the other woman but turning back towards the open valley just ahead of them. A tender snort escapes her nostrils as she trots forward a few bouncy paces and then resumes her steady, graceful walk, smile still lingering on her mask as she crosses between the great bronze and his blooming brother.

"Don’t fear him. He’s quite harmless unless I ask him not to be," she mentions of the sentinel, letting her body trail closely to his side in such a way that the dark strands of her tail sing out along his metal body. Pausing several yards past the statues, she again stops and turns back around, looking at her newest escort with interest as to what she thinks of the Basin now that she can fully see it and the sharp winds of the passes have left their bodies to regain whatever warm they might have lost.

@[Agrona]

She doesn’t believe her, that the giant is passive and without threat so long as she bids him so, and while Illynx finds that perhaps this is wise she is also mildly disgruntled that she is not immediately trusted; still, it does not find purchase in her overall view of the white haired mare, and so the friendly diatribe continues as wonder slips across Agrona’s face and she is pulled, as most are, into the quiet peace of her home. She wonders in passing if it’s too cold up here for someone who is already in the sleek coat of southern springs, but gives it little more concern because she figures anyone worthy of her kingdom is strong enough to withstand a bit of discomfort and chill.

If her guest begins to quake and tremble from hypothermia, she can always steal her away to the hot springs and then to her cave to dry out of the winds, which are really all that’s cold up here this time of year, the Sun bright and strong as he beats back the snow that swallowed the peaks during Frostfall. When the invisible streaks of the wind subside, the sun is warm and pleasant, the air tolerable; it is only that cold, cold hand that steals away the heat that is rumored by the flowers blooming around them in the newly exposed grass.

She smiles over at her counterpart as complements hit her ears, not returning words but providing thanks instead with the glow of her vibrant eyes and the cheerful way her mask contorts. "Walk with me," she says, returning her pace to a comfortable walk that would allow Agrona to look around them easily while they talked, the Lady assuming that the woman was still interested in conversation and perhaps even interested in looking about more closely. It cannot hurt for her to show her home to her kin, even if they live elsewhere; the chance that she might draw them here, to her haven of the horned, was always promising enough for her to risk minor information reaching outside ears.

Either way, all Agrona knew of that wasn’t publically known among the kingdom was Big Bronze at the fore of the herd, and she didn’t mind if the woman toddled home to tell people of Ulrik’s massive metal creation; let them tremble in fear of her kin, let them know that trespassing, treachery, and intrusion was to be met with quaking earth and creaking bronze.

"Seele? I know only her name and face. I am more familiar with Circuta," she explains, recalling a time when the witch had come at her own peril to assist the mountain herd and only having met Seele because she had been drawn to the group Circuta had pled allegiance to, in hopes that all of her kin were of the mind that she was (a mind, that is, which sought to assist the Basin and their wicked queen), "she came to us on the rise of darkness and allowed Deimos to lead the herd to safety in the caverns after realizing that we were unaware of its existence. I sought friendship with her and Midas in return for her kindness, not too long ago." She smiles, a gentle ripple of laughter slipping from her lips as she takes note of the fact that they are quite late for the second meeting they had promised.

She shouldn’t be surprised, really. Midas was no friend of theirs.
"An allegiance of sides, if you will, united against common enemies, but I do not think that she or Midas see it as valuable a thing as Circuta and I." She wonders why she’s telling her all of this aside from the fact that she obviously knows Seele and thus should know the others she mentions, more than likely a member of the ragtag band of lunatics that Circuta wandered with. Angling the direction of their walk towards the Spring, for she has decided to give her guest a delightful treat and allow her to bathe in their warm fount alongside her should she wish.

The stream rises in the distance, about forty yards, maybe more.

"It’s a shame, truly. I feel Seele and her kin are strong and clever, a good match for us."

And maybe a little birdie will tell her as much, she thinks to herself, her friendly smile hiding the sly edge to its figure as she glances over at Agrona.