The Lady is late to see the flashes of light that streak across the heavens, her golden frame passing through the last stretch of path that would return her to her home. She had left Rikyn in the care of the herd, trusting in her lessons for him well enough that he would behave beneath the watchful eye of her herd mates. She had been out walking the boundaries of the land, tending to the pathways and removing fallen branches and obstacles from the ones most often used by her people, her usual tasks of observing the work being done within her home discarded for the greater and more selfish need of escape and peace. Riding along her back is the small, growing form of her Griffon, the little cat-bird’s pale blue eyes astoundingly bright as they watch the world pass them by, swallowing in great gulps the world that had almost been denied her.

The sight of the lightning sends her at a much faster pace, her companion’s claws gripping tightly into her neck and sending delightful pulses of pain up to the Lady’s brain, finding comfort in each tiny cut the talons cause on her body for they are marks that prove their bond. She will always wear her marks from Kyst, where those from Rikyn were hidden beneath her chocolate coat in the form of stretched skin and the stubborn weight that she still struggled to drop from her after months of eating everything she saw.

Her golden legs flash beneath her at a canter, Kyst swaying with each bounding step and every so often chirruping her delight at the sensation of the wind against her feathers. Too small to fly still, she watches the birds and other flying creatures of the mountain with envy, but while on her companion’s back, she can pretend that she is reaching the heavens.

Illynx arrives to the cave of the Haruspex to hear the dapper tones of the chosen mirror keeper trickling from the confines of the stone, slowing to a walk that allows her head to bob in motion with her muscles and a faint heaviness to her breathing reveals that she had hurried here. Few and far between have been her encounters with the Gods of Helovia, and she decided a while back that she would try to change that, if she could.

Stepping over the outreached claws of the glass scorpion, she peers into the cavern with her usual regal air, head held aloft and proud and neck arching with grace. Kyst tightens her wings to herself, taking in the sight of one of the creators with respectful reservation, where Illynx displays all of her nationally renowned ego with each step. Zikar has since finished his assault of flattery on the God and the Lord of Storms now inquires of the Haruspex what he wishes to know – and the Lady smiles, stepping into the cave with all the humility she can muster for the sake of her chosen keeper and coming to a regal halt just behind the frame of the Haruspex.

Bowing low, a forelimb stretches long and straight before her and the other is tucked with a knee to the earth, golden horn resting its tip on the stone; her parents had described this as the most admirable way to greet another you respect, allowing them the chance to break her horn with a sharp blow of a hoof and trusting the other well enough to know that, should she lose her crown, it was for her own good.

She hopes he does not ruin her, as Psyche has been ruined. She would simply die of shame where her Empress had hid it away in loneliness and the life of an outcast; her heart was not as strong as the former Lady’s had been, no matter how tough she pretends she may be.

Looking to the mirror keeper as the God’s words close, she, for once in her tactless life, remains quiet, waiting for the eccentric man to answer the inquiries presented to him. She could hear the hostility in the painted Lord’s words, to be sure, but she also knows darling Zikar enough to understand that it will not phase him – the Haruspex is odd, as she described him to her son, but amiable, of good spirits that seemed impossible to tarnish.

He lives up to her expectations, smiling brightly in the face of all the dissent from their God figure.

She nods as her name is given mention, knowing that he knows who she is. It was not so long ago that she and her two children had come to him to pray – and received blessings, though even then he had seemed disgruntled with her demeanor. She wonders if any of the Gods of this land can see her for what she is worth, and love her; it grows tiresome being condemned by all those she views to be greater than herself, few as they may be.

The monocled stag answers well, and she smiles warmly in light of the decision to promote him. For all his insanity and strangeness, the man is eloquent, surely something any powerful creature might admire. Wit is among the most prized possessions one can hold, Illynx believes, and surely a God believes the same. Looking the Lightning Lord, she nods her agreement to the statement, adding in only a single statement to further clarify. "The Edge is also fostered near the Rotunda, where it is believed new found enemies of our herd may hide. Arah and her girls nearly died having no where but the north to turn to. I will not allow my people and their children to suffer so when a tender relaying of words of peaceful notions might better protect them."

The next part of the conversation draws a soft giggle from her, her fondness of the strange little man growing all the larger ever since that afternoon when he had sacrificed himself to spare her. He was kind, beneath all his sinister madness, and she wonders what sort of man he might be were his mind not as fractured as it is; surely he would not be among the Plague, and so she is thankful in ways that the white haired stag is broken, but she also cannot help feeling some sadness for those who reside in dark, dark places as this one.

Her own heart is a bleak place. At least Zikar can manage his shadows with the eloquence of a fine gentleman and the light heartedness of a sparrow in spring. She dwells in them, gleaming for all the murk that surrounds her, but tarnished all the same.

Much to her pleasure, the Haruspex also remembers the matter of their tent, smiling broadly and looking towards the insane stag with great pride.

[ OOC: Late but here! :D Smithers beat my last one, had to edit Zikar in.]