When the woman’s eyes turn to her, Illynx feels the weight of them, the appraisal of the creature crafted purely from magic; while her racism reaches out towards those who bare the appearance of equine, time and time again she has been proven to be more forgiving towards those who were simply not at all like she was in anyway, or who seemed to be touched by a higher magic that was beyond her understanding. She could recall most immediately if asked the companions of her friends and acquaintances, the most obvious of answers, but also the horse-man who had called himself Kelec. A centaur, the scraggly unicorn had said at the time, another face who was no longer present among them, short lived and brief like a flash of electricity through the sky; she had never seen another creature like Kelec before or since, and doubted she ever would. It had almost immediately earned the strange man a place among them as far as she was concerned – for Illynx has a lust for power, and what greater proof of power and birth right is there than to keep the magically blessed and physically strong among their people?

She had once even offered a tiger a home among them, seeing great promise in the white gleam of his teeth and the broad expanse of his paws. She was not truly as evil as even she liked to think of herself, not when one thought of these things, and it is perhaps this aspect of herself that the Harpy sees as her hems and clicks turn into an offer that draws a smile to the Lady’s lips as soon as the creamy shell is revealed from beneath the greasy feathers of the woman bird, growing broader as the creature removed herself from the surface and goaded the golden mare forward.

She does as the Harpy asks. It is not a difficult task, truly; what resides inside that shell will grant her the same fierceness that had left the faint etches of scars along her spine, hidden well by the golden smoke-work along her pelt and the magical song of Lena, but remembered as if they burned and crackled in the mountain air. The pain – that was of course remembered – was nothing in comparison to the bruises left deep in her ego.

Her muzzle extends towards the oblong sphere, feeling the pulse of life within it rush through her flesh and settle deep in her brain and heart. Her golden eyes glimmer in all the ways that the Harpy’s are dead, her heart racing under the excitement of having discovered this while alone in the woods.

No, it was good she had not brought Rikyn. He would have only interfered.

”It is as if I was meant to walk this path today,” she muses aloud, her eyes still glazed in affection for the precious egg in front of her, ”to save you.” Closing her eyes only briefly, she opens them to tuck the egg tight between her chin and neck, her pulse throbbing against it as her eyes flicker back towards the Harpy.

”Thank you mistress, for protecting it,” she says, ”I will do my best. I have little experience in such things as raising eggs, you see.” Her giggle is short and light, most of her attentions paid to holding the egg in place against her throat and keep it from slipping until she can get it home to her cave. ”Aside from warmth, what will it need of me? You have the air of one who has guided many a hatchling to the skies.”

@[Random Event]