Devastation is an emotion she has learned common place among the undesirables who have found their lodgings in the snow during her time in the Basin, one that she reads on the face of the young girl brought home from the Meadow as the acidic words based around her very being leech into the air. It is a cruel fact of the world that Illynx accepts readily and has no problem explaining; not a single flinch or ripple of remorse makes it onto her features, despite how deeply the words surely wound, because it is all a necessary part of life if Aithniel is to survive here. Unlike Destry, who had been unwanted at her birth and undesirable after by any but her useless, whore parents, the little snow and gold child had been selected for residence rather than deposited, and it made all the difference for her in regards to her status – she was left to her own devices, wandering with no escort, where Destry had spent not a moment alone until she had finally managed to escape their clutches. Perhaps the golden bitch will share this story with her, someday, of another girl who suffered the sins of her parents and had not a soul to love her at all.

But, as the words of the Lady lighten in their nature, infusing the dark, bitter truth with what sugar she could find in the moment, she watches the desolate light begin to shine with a more ruddy, hopeful glow in the girl’s face, and behind glittering eyes and a floating smile, she feels the surge of verbal prowess knit its way through her psyche, adding additional glimmer to her façade as the pale hybrid reaches out to touch her leg in a gesture Illynx can only mark as one of thanks.

Her little voice, not so different from the other girls of the mountain, could slip in past shut lids and be accepted to be a whole child, one uncursed; but Illynx can see her. The words she says are wise enough for a babe and the Lady nods approvingly for a moment, still wearing that sweet nurturing smile that gave Rikyn the creeps – mostly because he knew his momma was only truly beautiful when there was a game a foot or she was winning some unseen, illusive contest that evaded his understanding. Poor Aithniel hadn’t had enough time or exposure to the terrible woman to know as much of her.

Still, the boy remains silent, battling his trepidation to replace it with a look that echoes the peace he feels as his sister stills her crying and eases into the normalcy of words, the young prince clinging to the notion that, surely, his mother would not allow harm to come to Aithniel so long as he still loved her.

He watches as his mother swallows up the one weeping girl in an embrace in reaction to her gentle touch of thanks, golden eyes wide in wonder at what sort of game his dam played at – acting like she felt anything less than contempt for the girl he’d convinced her to spare was unusual, but he supposed that even his cruel mother might be tempted away from her unkindness by the tears of a girl she had kept alive. "Good girl," she croons with false affection.

Rikyn, unused to seeing his mother in such a light as well as feeling some surges of jealousy rise through him at the sight of the woman holding another child (and Aithniel being appreciated by someone other than him), clears his throat awkwardly and shuffles his hooves beneath him, eyeing his sister as he tries to find words to fit the situation and provide some comfort as his dam had – or so Illynx thinks. "I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner to protect you," he says, and the golden wench narrows her golden eyes and steps away from Aithniel, brushing the top of her mane with dark lips in the gesture, watching her son now with rapt focus and wondering what all he will give away in this confession of guilt, hoping it is none of her guarded secrets, "I’ve known for a while now, about your wings..." His voice trails away, eyes peering at his sibling despite the heavy gaze of his mother, the woman who has implanted the notions of hatred into his heart, ones that he sees some truth in but has a hard time fully grasping because of his wonderful Thistle Sister; there is so much more he wants to say, but cannot. He knows the punishment for divulging that which he has been forbidden to speak of.

His tail twitches behind him and he steps closer to nudge at her face with his nose (assuming she hasn’t assaulted him by now or fled, once more, out into the wilderness), apology etched into every pore of his innocent face for having failed her. "I think you should keep them," he says quickly, speaking, of course, of her wings, the sound of a scoff rising from the golden woman who watches them, "being different isn’t so bad, and I still think you’re pretty regardless."

His smile suddenly becomes impish, finding that he doesn’t entirely believe what he says. Sure, she’s pretty – but the distraction of those things on her shoulders and the dramatic events that had caused this conversation to come into play worked together with the stories of his mother to make him decide that, yes, she certainly was less attractive due to her blemishes. However, he had seen the birds in the skies, and he had watched them dive and sweep over the tall, looming peaks of the mountain with little more than a playful song; no boy in Loorien could watch such a fanciful delight and look on someone like Aithniel with anything less than wonder and slight envy that she might have that freedom one day.

He turns his eyes to his dam as her voice rises out over his own, her golden eyes keen and having caught the hidden hesitation in that rogue’s grin, her own smile broad and pleased with the adept mind of her learning son. "Kyst will teach you to use them when the time comes, if you decide this is your path," she says, some reservation holding in her heart that she so changes the foundations of her life for a single child – but the hope that she will become a tool, a powerful weapon that is loyal to the unicorns and subservient to their might… it lures her words onward, "or I can find someone else, if you’d prefer a pegasus tutor; I will admit, however, that few fly with as much agility as a Griffon from my experience."

Illynx