She wandered a lot on her own, nowadays... Fallen from glory, a soldier forgotten, a soldier that lay dying and choking in their own blood as those of their brigade march on to victory, leaving behind them a pool of sweet nothings, empty promises, and blood that tasted of fine, rejuvenating copper. Rhiannon, daughter of Crowley and Arah, elder sister to Asch and Arwen, wandered through her own home, the Basin, the land of her birthright, like nothing more than a stranger.

How long had it been since she had seen her mother, Arah? Her father, Crowley? Or her own, younger sisters, who were naught but strangers themselves to her? Were they well? Or had this dark-consuming madness gotten a hold of them, as well? It was so dreadfully hard to tell... Teeth gnashing, frosted tail flicking to and fro, the brindled Devil prowled the land like a large cat hunting for its next unfortunate meal, muscles twitching and popping at her mad, extended trot through the terrible snowfall that only seemed to personify her own bitter, brutal, macabre personality.

Oh, how far she had fallen...

Once a knight, sworn into service, sworn into fealty to Illynx, her Queen, the Gildedblade... Now rotten and forgotten in a ditch, left behind by the one she desired most.

Hotaru...

Oh, how she lusted for the skilled wraith, the delectable Phantom. The last time they had crossed paths had been at that dance, where her lust for the fair maiden had been so tangible she could taste it, but before she could so much as make a move towards her dear Princess, before she could utter a single swooning syllable, disaster had struck.

No other could hold power or sway over her. No other could captivate her like Hotaru had, the sweet sound of the mare's sinful vocals, a siren in the dark, leading ships astray... And alas, Rhiannon was the poor, unfortunate sailor, cursed and damned by something far more beautiful than what she could hold.

Through the blankets of white that descended from the heavens, a soft, soothing hiss the only sound as the delicate flakes landed upon the heaps of snow, Rhiannon's dual-toned eyes spotted two whom she did not recognize standing about the hot springs. Huh. Seemed she wasn't the only one who desired a hot, soothing bath in such terrible weather. The soldier slowed, bodice stretched outwards, head lifting high, horn poised towards the heavens with pride shining in her mis-colored eyes. And who were they? Once, the brindled Devil may try a sly, seductive approach upon introducing herself, at least towards the one without those ugly, feathered appendages called 'wings', but alas... Her heart was stolen from her own chest, ripped cleanly from an invisible wound, stolen by a specter, and now, nothing else could possibly hold her interest.

"Those are the hot springs. Now, let yourself speak what you wish, child," Rhiannon said cooly towards the youth, the young, horned filly of whom the soldier did not recognize. Smoldering gold and frozen silver eyed the filly as she sashayed through the drifts of frozen crystals of snow, sizing her up, noticing the sculpture of her profound loins, the awkwardness of her growing build, still so young, and the impressive, handsome angles and structures of her fine jaw. One day, this filly would be beautiful, exquisite even... But the winged counterpart would not. "Freedom of expression should be learned at a young, ripe age... For if you do not say what is on your mind as a youngling, then you won't be inclined to defend your opinion as an adult. Your tongue, sweet child, can be sharper than any polished horn."

The winged one was equally appealing, in a far more mature and divine way... But she would look far better without those horrid atrocities splitting from those fine shoulders. Perhaps, should they be friends, this unfortunate mare would allow Rhiannon to pluck them from her shoulders, so she would be rid of them. Yes, that sounded lovely.

Coming to a stop a good, stable distance between them, the brindled Devil eyed the two, a twisting, curling, promising smirk pulling her lips upwards, discourse and danger shining in her dual-toned oculars. "I don't believe we've ever had the privilege of meeting, and I've walked these lands since my birth. I am Rhiannon, Soldier and Knight of the Basin." Bane of your existence, winged one, she wanted to tack on, but Rhiannon knew when to keep her blade sheathed, and when to draw it and attack. Although, it had been a dreadfully long time since she had tasted the blood of another... Since that spar with that winged harpy, Destry.

"And, if I may inquire each of your identities?"

@[Zünden] @[Rhea]

ooc: I'm SO sorry this is late, guys. And I'm sorry for the quality. xD I'm rusty.