The quirky seer appears moments after Kyst is spied aloft in the horizon, his face bewildered and curious as she had hoped it would be once he spies the strange stranger on their doorstep. A smile graces her face and a cordial bow is given to the honorable summoner, a certain fondness for the odd little man having etched its way into her heart with an expedient quickness after he had spared her from the assault of a flying monster to suffer the consequences of the wraith’s bite instead of her.

Gratefulness was something that did alter her usual cold and mildly sociopathic way of viewing and treating others; it was why she had gone to Midas to ask for friendship, it was why she cared for her Ulrik, and it was why she admired the crazy man with the monocle.

That one of her list had already scorned away that fondness of his name was a problem that was more his own than it was hers; she would not forget that the painted Czar had saved her from a life lost in shadow and mindlessness, but she would also not forgive the slights that had been delivered to her people under the man’s rule.

His chipper arrival only blooms her smile broader, the usual politeness blended with the odd penchant for death and dismemberment amusing – but the hybrid, for the time being, knew no better. The Lady glances over at her to see her reaction to one of the most honorable members of their herd, only to find questions and perhaps a slight tinge of egotism writ across the mask of the mutant.

Illynx’s smile diminishes slightly, though she does listen with interest as the winged beast offers her name in exchange for Zikar’s.

Kyst, who was flying above watching with interest, lands gracefully on the plated spine of the Lady as her voice once again sounds out into the snow. "I did indeed," she remarks with a smile, turning her golden eyes to view fully the stallion that had followed her beloved companion to her, "miss Rhea here expresses interest in joining our numbers. As you can see, however, she is not truly fit to be among our brethren, as the poor dear is deformed as my sweet Aithniel."

A sorrowful expression sways the beauty of her smile in a tragic way, the true pain she feels for the oddly coated soul alongside the two Basin dwellers reaching into the etchings of her mask. She cannot imagine having been born with such a curse; she surely would already have dropped herself from the clouds.

"She expresses regret for the actions of her parents, but dislikes the notion of having them removed," she explains, gesturing towards the appendages of mention with her horn, "I fear I’m quite perplexed, you see… the laws of our mountain have long decreed that she is not allowed among us, but she is of a unique mind in comparison to the others I’ve encountered." A brow rises, a pondering expression sweeping across her face as she compares both Aithniel and Rhea – finding them rather similar in their pride for that which marked them as lesser but also equally open to the notion of being so.

"What say you, Zikar?" she asks in a final inquiry, "do you believe she may be spared? Do you believe her mind is still whole enough to be saved?"

@[Zikar-Sin]