Racism. It's a concept that is almost impossible to imagine unless you feel it. And when you feel it, you feel it deep down in your core. It's a part of you, a part that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to. Even if you tell yourself that you can coexist with your inferiors, you will cringe when they come too close to you. You will never consort with them. You will never befriend them. You will always be apart, never truly accepting them, always wishing they were not here. You will believe yourself to be better than they are in every way, even given evidence to the contrary. If they are bigger than you, you will still think yourself stronger. If they are more intelligent than you, you will still think yourself able to outwit them. You will always think yourself better, and you will always preach that you are better. In this is your strength as well as your weakness. You see, as long as you tell them that you are better, and as long as they believe you, you have power over them. But as soon as they see through the clever, elaborate ruse that is your racism - for they will see it as a ruse, have no doubt about that - your power vanishes. And that is something that you will never regain.

Unless you take it.

For every power that is lost can be regained. Conquest is the beginning, and it is what breeds the fear that will pull them back under your power. You will fight, you will kill, you will show no mercy. You will target their mares and foals. You will go after their weak and elderly. Perhaps you can even decimate their beliefs. You will take away all that they care about, all that the believe in, and they will once more come to fear you and yours. And they will yield once more to your power. And if they don't? Total annihilation. Of course, that may yet be the simplest way. Genocide would be easy, of course. Hunt down every last one of the inferiors and then there would be none to lose power over. And so this cycle would never happen. You would simply rule, unhindered. Ah, what it would be like to have no challenges to one's power, no unexpected consequences of one's actions. For everything to be planned and executed precisely. Then, there would be no room for error.

The forest was dark, this far in, but here and there specks of light shone through the dense gatherings of leaves overhead. Perhaps it would be calming to some. To the dark unicorn who picked her way through the shadows, though, it was almost nonexistent. Why should she pay attention to her surroundings? She had no desire to sit and stare at the foliage or reminisce on times gone by in the woodlands of her childhood. Even worse would be the more recent times gone by, the times that could have made her truly happy, had she allowed it. But then, happiness for Psyche would come only with the Unicorn conquest of Helovia, and she was far from that goal even before she'd left. To think of all the mistakes she had made! Amber eyes glowed with a mixture of anger and pain, reflecting her tumultuous thoughts. She had almost developed true feelings for someone, and clearly that had only gotten in her way. And then, to make matters worse, she had given birth! It wasn't that she was unhappy to have been a mother - after all, the little filly was the only one that Psyche could truly teach her ways to, as her father had before her. It had just put her plans on hold.

No more, the ebony femme promised herself. No one will get in my way this time. Her hoofbeats were muffled by the soft soil as she trudged on. A gentle shake of her head sent her mane and the trinkets woven into it flying; they settled rather unceremoniously on the left side of her nape. She had a certain no-nonsense look about her, but it wasn't necessarily an angry one, as she had gained quite the anger outlet earlier that day. Her memory swung to the tobiano Equine she had met and their ensuing spar. A slight smile. She hoped she'd scared the stupid mare silly. Auds flicked to her right; a small stream had caught her attention, bubbling gently. And then, the scent of another. The musk was of Unicorn - of that, Psyche was certain. And so it was with a sense of comfort that she picked up the pace, her trot beating out a steady rhythm. And then she came upon the stranger, a dappled bay with shining purple eyes. Not one that Psyche knew, not that this surprised her. Warily, but striving to be somewhat friendly - she could always use more Unicorns on her side, after all - the dark fae called out a greeting. "Hello there. May I join you on your trip through the Forest?"

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.

The afternoon sunlight shone through the dense foliage overhead. The shadow-mare's plain coat had the added decor of shining dapples, an addition that was not very much to her liking. She preferred the night, where her dark pelt would blend with her surroundings and only her amber eyes would stand out. But then, the Deep Forest was still fairly dim in the bright light of mid afternoon. On Lumina, the dappling sunlight only enhanced the features of her dark bay coat, and she seemed to be almost illuminated - fitting, for one with such a name. The femme's words were bright, cheerful. "Oh, hello! Sure, I'd love to enjoy this fine afternoon with a companion!"

Far too cheerful, this one. But, ever watchful for new recruits, Psyche fell into step beside the fae, and off they were through the forest. She didn't seem like one that would hold any hard feelings, much less a superiority complex, but one could try. An inner sigh. But before Psyche could speak, the chatting mare began again. "My name is Lumina.I have recently joined the herd of the Dragon's Throat. What do they call you? Where do you come from?" Too many questions. But eager. And from Dragon's Throat? Psyhe's nostrils flared at the thought of a unicorn willing to live with the skyrats and equines. But if the shadow-mare could recruit her, they could have an insider. No use in leaving the naive thing just yet.

"My name is Psyche, and I used to be from the World's Edge. I have been..." A pause. "... away for some time. I am returning to the Edge as we speak." A glance at the bay femme showed a keen interest in her trinkets, and Psyche suppressed a smile. How this little mare would react to her stories - she could only imagine! "Shall we continue, then, while you tell me about yourself?" A nod, a smile; a smile that was sly in nature but perhaps unnoticeable as such. "To be honest, darling, I'm much more interested in you that you ought to be in me. But you may ask me any questions that you'd like, and I will answer." But perhaps not truthfully.

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.

How innocent. This was something that Psyche had seen in young foals, but never in a grown fae. The younglings were expected to be innocent - they had yet to face the realities of the world, able to cower behind their mothers and live freely. They had not yet become involved in manipulations and secrets. How had this mare escaped life? How had she not become a hardened shell of a creature? So trusting - clearly wary of Psyche's trinkets, but passing them by and making no remark, asking no questions, just blindly allowing the shadow-mare to accompany her on a trip through the forest. How interesting.

"Oh my, oh my... I'm afraid I'm but a simple, boring unicorn of Dragon's Throat... whatever would you want to know about plain ol' me?" The bay's sweet smile was the polar opposite of Psyche's: cunning, poisonous. From the Throat, eh? Well, this was a waste of time. She lived with skyrats and equines, and surely didn't particularly care who she lived with. But surely it wouldn't hurt to try. "Oh, the Dragon's Throat. Do you like it there, darling? How is the company?" she queried, gently prying. Only those knowledgeable of the Plague and its ways would pick up on the insinuations and nuances of the questions. And if she didn't, well, perhaps Psyche would plant them.

[W/C | 224]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.