Perhaps she was not ready for this. It was all too much, too fast. Brisé was not adjusting well to herd life. She had only met the Nightshade, of whom she trusted, and a spindly young colt of whom she had shut down the moment her eyes rolled upon him. All the defenses she broke down had built back up instantly at the sight of a foal. A harmless young child that would do no harm to her and yet she had frozen her thawed heart at the mere scent of his innocence. Why? Why did Brisé shut out everyone upon meeting them. There was no need to, or maybe there was and she didn't know it. Why had she left her home to begin with? Was she chasing after ghosts or afraid of something? Not knowing who she was before was tearing her apart piece by piece. How long was it until the beast she had forged from steel and ice tore out of her heart and lunged for her sanity? Her compassion? How long would it be until Brisé was a hollow shell, alone and freezing in the tundra surrounded by souls who would never understand her struggle, her torment? There was nothing she could do, her memory was gone and there was no getting it back. She could try to fake it didn't bother her and drag on with her miserable life, trying to create new memories to fill in for the old. But it came down to the fact she would not be able to, there would always be this nagging feeling of emptiness. There would always be a piece missing to her.

Yet this war waging within her mind was never expressed or shown outwardly. Brisé was calm and stoic, rarely showing any signs of humanity within her. Her face was a mask carved from stone and frozen in place. Her eyes were usually empty and pitiful to look into for they sucked the joy out of everything. She did not seem miserable or broken. Brisé had quite the façade and could convince even the most compassionate of minds that she was normal. She hid behinds treacherous, cruel, hideous acts yet believed in the solidity of justice. She was paranoid yet not afraid of the future or what it held. Brisé had a natural tendency to lead yet becoming a mother repulsed her in ways that surprised her. So no, she was not normal in the least bit. But she could pretend she was. She could act like everything was okay and that her heart and mind were stable. But they weren't. With every step she took farther into the Basin, she was traveling farther from a home she could not remember. Brisé was damned in one of the worst ways possible. What could she have possibly done to deserve such torment, such agony. Who had she been? And who was she to become?

Her self pity was cut short by a couple voices. One feminine, one masculine. Brisé halted mid-pace and gingerly sauntered in the direction of the sounds. As she had gotten closer Brisé could not help but notice she stood taller than both of them, even the stallion. But as the gray mare spoke Brisé caught a name, one that sounded familiar. Within a matter of seconds she connected the name to that of the Lord of the herd. As the fae spoke again Brisé felt nothing towards the mention of the name, no fear or respect. It held no meaning to her. Yet as the brute spoke she heard something in his voice. It was cold and his stare was ice. He did not attempt to move at all other than to look upon the woman before him. As he replied Brisé slowly walked up, her face blank and giving away nothing. Yet as she looked at her leader all she saw was a mirror, a reflection of herself. Brisé could not say for certain whether it frightened her or comforted her but all she knew right then was that she was not the only one tortured and beaten down by fate. An invisible connection, perhaps insane as well, was forming in her mind towards the ebony beast before her. "Then why the tense posture?" Her question was not mocking and held no trace of emotion. Brisé's face and eyes betrayed nothing. So she stood there, identical to a block of ice, and waited to see what was to unfold.

OOC| @[Deimos] @[Tangere]