She watches the God with all the attention she can muster, focusing her energy on retaining her splendid expression of rapt focus with the faintest of smiles tugging the corners of her mouth, her neck arched and body angled just ever so slightly enough to display the supple curvature of her figure, still plump in places from the child she had carried within her but diminished in her fairness none the less. He doesn’t seem to be too distraught by the end of a long term, hate filled feud between the land of the Moon – in fact, if she was to be bold in her assumptions, it seemed he almost enjoyed the idea. She supposes it is so for any of the Gods of this land, to wish for peace and happiness among their children, but she was thankful none the less that there was no immediate retaliation for their decision to change the way the game was being played to such a degree. It was, as the God assumed, not a permanent thing; any mortal could learn this knowledge of the Lady just by bothering to get to know her any way at all, much less an omnipotent keeper of time.

She still keeps the full details of her decision to herself – don’t ask, don’t tell. Its not beyond her to argue tactics with a God, of course, but she’d rather not get too involved with her notions of false peace and Trojan kindnesses with the subject of the much desired tent looming so close at hoof.

She takes in his nod and the surge of electricity that swarms across his bi-hued pelt, feeling, not for the first or last time, the thrill of being so near to such a powerful presence. She had tasted of his might on their journey home from the caverns, safe and nourished in his bubble of perfection that had not yet been ruined in Helovia’s timeline, and she could see more of his strength any night the lights flashed through the heavens and struck entire trees into ash. It never grows old, the presence of the Gods, and she sips on his company as if he is a fine beverage, seasoned and expensive, the whiskey suddenly growing too sour as he speaks of the cost for her tent.

Her simple smile fades into a grimace of dislike, golden eyes flickering in their dark rims as she views each face of her council in turn and feels her blood turn into curdled milk. She wants to get mad, but knows better – which leaves her in an unfortunate state of pouting and irritable, her long, dark tail striking through the cool air of the cavern and filling the silence with the audible sounds of her dislike of this deal. She cannot argue that they ask for quite a lot in this deal, skipping over the God’s jibe at Zikar to ponder the weight of his words.

Magic. Who would willingly give up such a thing? What were the boundaries on such a deal? Would it strip whoever sacrificed their strength to greater the herd’s down to a foal once again, powerless and weak, or take from them only one fragment of their might? Would it sever the bonds of magic that held their companions close to their souls? Her eyes narrow and her tongue feels dry and gritty against the folds of her cheeks as she forces herself to swallow and meet the eyes of the God who has just asked of her and her kin a great thing indeed for a magical tent.

She glances over to the Haruspex for but a moment, her concern for her herd evident in the diminished gleam settled into her eyes. "All of their magic, or only part?" she inquires when her gaze resettles on her God, "and what of the bond between companions and master? Is this a magic that might be touched by this arrangement?" Her jaws work against one another at the end of her questions, her tongue grasped between straight white teeth and chewed and chewed until she can manage more words, feeling the desire in her heart relinquish none of its hold no matter how steep the cost. "We have a deal, but I must know what precisely this entails if I am to properly acquisition one of my councilmen."