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08-21-2014, 02:44 PM
take a look in the mirror - see the truth in your face Could any born and raised in the faulty truths of their existence expect not to dance when finding one another, even if they were old friends? So sharp were their blades, with too many sides; gentle hands were necessary, for hesitant fingers didn’t get cut as easily or with as little compassion as clumsy, seeking ones. She watches the shake of Giselle’s head with the reserved position she takes hold of all things with, unless they are most notably weaker than she is. Giselle is none of these things; her blood is pure, a testament to the future that gleams on the Gilded Blade’s bloody horizon, and such a woman to share not only pure unicorn lineage but the blood which had flown through her darling Psyche’s blade was not to be trifled with or taken lightly. She had met several with outstanding qualifications in her quest for power and glory, and none had been trusted in so far as she was capable of plucking their thoughts straight from their minds; those she found to aide her in her quest were just as merciless as she in their desire for power, and she was not so foolish as to assume any grand and eloquent dame who came into her life was not seeking to take the power dangling before them. Her words strike hard at the woman’s calloused heart, the truth that Giselle felt only disdain for the fallen Empress evident in each cold syllable that falls from her lips. It is not that Illynx is not used to it – merely that she is the only one who still holds love in her heart for her friend, for her leader. It is a pain that makes her want to rip the waggling tongue from the other mares mouth but also one that seeks to drive her out and into the wilderness alongside her. Why bother ruling if she will only be mocked once she is gone? It had taken very little for the hearts of her kin to sour towards the one they had once revered, and so she was cautious, and bitter. But her smile, the cold porcelain of her mask, does not crack or falter. Her eyes glimmer with a wetness that could be deciphered as sorrow for the Empress or distaste for the defeats they had suffered, and follow the trail of spittle down into the earth. "The tale of the Empress is not so one sided," simply states the Lady, not looking forward to repeating the tale that had nearly broken her at its occurrence, loathe to show her kinship with the fallen Lady had not withered or faded even after she had fled the mountain. It had not been entirely her fault, the reasons that they had cast her from them one sided and full of impassioned logic that was, as most passionate thought, faulty. A war is not one or lost by one being, but many; if the Plague was failing and the Basin an embarrassment, it was all their cross to bare, not just one woman’s, and that herself and the councilmen of that time had been cast none of the blame bothered her in more ways than she could ever express. Psyche was her friend, she had spared her a life of loneliness that would have ended young, and she gave many of the Plague a purpose where they thought there would never be one. They owed her much more than what she got by the end of it all, and Giselle would know of it. If she still decided to think of her sister as weak rather than the bloodied and betrayed queen that she was, that was Giselle’s choice to make; Illynx was not such a fool as to let the image of dagger’s in ones back fade from her memory so quickly, would not dismiss it as weakness on behalf of one when it had been treachery in so much as a failure to defend herself from it. A gentle nod of her head is given in response once Giselle’s words close, the Lady altering her direction ever so slightly as to hint at walking forward while they talked; the Basin would be to her liking, of this she was sure, and even if it wasn't, it would be good to at least see Giselle on the mountain one last time before she carried on into the outlands. The Plague was still there, after all, however lazy and slumbering it may have been since Psyche had fallen from grace. "It’s different, and yet the same," she says, "we are a resilient people above most things. Even the chaos of failed wars, eternal darkness, and fast sweeping plagues cannot bring us to our knees." |
