As it was the last time she’d had to save one of her kin from an unfortunate situation, she finds she rather likes the unicorn that has found herself in such a conundrum; it is perhaps not obvious, the way she laughs and smirks at her misfortune, but to have been the only thing that had kept the poor dear from death by rocks and to have been the one to have managed to free her from her predicament left a certain fondness in ones heart for the object of their salvation. It also meant that the woman owed her for her life – which was surely valuable to just about any mortal one crossed paths with, unless they were miserly and longed for such an escape.

When the mare is finally back on steady, level ground, Illynx tugs the vines free from herself and turns to look more fully at the prize she has fetched from the depths. Dark coated and marked with white along her face, she is a simple thing to look at, surely not the most dazzling specimen of her kind that has ever been found in the shadowy wood – but what could be expected from someone who falls into ditches?

Reasonably, the woman is shaken, and the Lady calmly waits for the shakes to ease their way out of the black flesh that coats her bones as Kyst flutters up from the log below and over to land lightly astride Illynx’s platinum plated back. Her smile gleams as words fall quickly from the lips of the salvaged unicorn, a mix of emotions rising at the gratitude as well as the now apparent skill set of the woman; Illynx has great use for those who can craft objects, both for decoration (if her sapphire encrusted jewelry, amulets, and armor did not reveal such things of herself, already) and for warfare.

The second thing was back home, born from the splendid magic of the man she had claimed as her own. She wonders what this one before her does aside from simply trading; is she capable of her own feats of magical wonder, or does she have room to learn within the folds of the herd?

Laughter slips from the Lady’s dark lips as the trader sets the terms of her deal, turning anything into a much more manageable something for herself, a genial nod tilting the sculpted face of the golden horned wench. "It is the least I might do for one of our blood," she says, golden eyes flickering upwards to the spiraled crown that gleams upon her brow (for they are not truly sisters, she does not think for even an instant – her parents died young, their family far away), "though your offer is gracious, and well taken."

The woman moves to gather herself more fully and turns to glare at the by standing one with wings and golden lacing, vehemence lighting her words and drawing a delightfully amused smirk to the lips of the watching Lady. Restraining her laughter behind a falsified benevolence, the Gilded Blade arches her neck and steps forward, placing herself more fully in the trader’s line of sight and thus more fully in her thoughts.

"The winged one cannot help the ways in which she has failed you today, darling," her voice floats and carries across the air with grace, "it is in her nature, stupidity given to her by her ancestors who bred with mindless birds." Her eyes turn towards the white and gold one with a snotty air of being greater than she, as all pegasus were looked upon aside from those who would serve her uses beyond a quick game and a comfortable, feather filled pillow or two.

"Come, let us leave the poor beast with her failures," she says softly, turning north, towards home; the walk was long, and would give ample time for her to implant the idea of living in the Basin and ease the aggravation that so suddenly had swept the rescued mare, "I have an offer to share with you, anyway. I think you’ll find it fair, and fitting to your stipulations."