As if his words hold a magical pull, the girl stops in her earthbound flight across the valley, turning abruptly from her savage pace to fall a sobbing mess into his slender shoulder. Her son, sweet as she might have been if life had not soured her soul so soon, curves his neck across her and presses himself into her trembling form, not sure why it is that she is so shaken but feeling a desperation to still her fears that reads from his heart out into his face that watches her with wide, concerned eyes.

Illynx watches with judgment and harshness lined in her mask, disliking the display of emotions that speak volumes of the uncouth and wild nature of the child she has spared. While she generally does not dwell on the assumption that all winged things are primitive animals (for it is an understatement of the enemies prowess, dangerous as sleeping with a jar of lit explosives beneath ones head), she does assume that their intellect is beneath even the most simple minded of her brethren, and that the girl squalls and carries on for all the world to see is a despicable show of her inferior breeding. The golden bitch lifts her head high and with the grace of her status as she slips towards the pair of children interlocked in the embraces of comfort, a cold wind riding into the balmy aura of their spring.

Her dark rimmed ears lift and catch some of the words that are garbled into her son’s shoulder, the prince fidgeting with her mane in an attempt to ease her worries even as he wears a face that shows the horror of what she has finally discovered. Her boy has been told of the threat of his sister time and again by his dam, even allowed to join her during a meeting of her clandestine companions to further instill her way of thinking into his young, malleable mind, but love is a powerful force that cannot be altered or swayed by any mortal probing, and he loves the little orphan fiercely as she loves her true child. It is a circle that she might break today, she thinks with a smile on her lips, lined with daggers and jagged ice as she meets his flickering, worried eyes of gold and the girl notices her presence.

The change that crosses the snow and gold filly at the realization that she is not alone with her trusted brother is one that earns her points from the cold natured woman; the child is not stupid, despite the Lady’s efforts to exclude her from her private lessons with Rikyn, and that she is astute enough to know that weakness is not tolerated from her surrogate dam is enough to lesson the hardness of Illynx’s heart some. Her screwed up face is also endearing in its own ways, the hormone’s of the mare’s body working against her in that she had been feeding the child and had thus developed some minute form of a bond with her during their time together, a response that even her hatred could not restrain.

Rikyn looks at her alongside his sister, standing and looking deflated and afraid for the young heart of his friend and life’s comrade as the question spills from her lips, ragged and full of the trepidation that lines her features. Illynx takes in the scene with her usual air of nonchalance, though her heart beats hard in her chest and her mind reels through all her options and available answers. She could lie to spare the girl the agony of the truth for the time, only to have to tell her later, or she could answer truthfully. Of the truth, none of the answers were without sharp edges, some designed to kill and others to only prick the skin and bring to light the bright blood beneath.

She settles on a choice, her voice crisp and calm as it cuts through the warm, summer air.

"You are a blight of nature, the child of animal and unicorn, known by the common word of hybrid," her son winces beneath the words, stepping towards Aithniel as if he can guard her with his body while his mother’s commanding tone continues on with her cold, ruthless rhetoric, "by the old laws, you should have died in the meadow where we found you, for the sins of your parents and their parents who bred with birds to create you." She pauses for a moment, Rikyn’s eyes pinned on her face with a pleading expression, fearing that Aithniel will leave him and the family that they had made together, fearing that his mother will not lesson the harshness of her words to spare some of the poor girl’s dignity; his expression evolves into one of amazement as her words continue. "Removing your wings will not change the truth that will forever lie in your blood. It is up to you to decide what use they serve to you, if any, and whether or not you will keep them."

"You are who you are, Aithniel, and no amount of tears or pain will change what fate delivered you – but you are alive, kept safe by the woman who should have destroyed you. These are gifts in and of themselves, are they not, that we saw a purpose to your life, that you have one?" her smile is like flint as it cracks through the still expression of her mask, "Be a good girl, mind your place beneath the others, and do not let them dictate your heart so easily, lest you prove their theories that you are but an animal trapped in a sentient guise… a monster, as you said." She takes a moment to look at her son, who is standing with his mouth agape in wonder that his dam chose the softer route in dealing with his sibling rather than the harsher, more cruel stories she had given him; it is all in the Lady’s favor, of course, for she knows that it is better to have friends than enemies and that her son will learn well from watching her play her nefarious little games.

Returning her golden stare to the girl, she finishes what she has to say with more warmth to her tone. "They will never love you, of course, but there is a secret to such truths that I learned very young," she says, leaning in closer to the girl after taking a few long, elegant steps closer to her foals, her lips murmuring her words so that only the children might hear, "you don’t need their love to be worthy. They cannot bring you suffering if you do not care what they feel for you."

Illynx