The structure of the Plague was an intricate one, and one that was likely to change. The old ways had served them well in the beginning, when their rampant racism was still hidden and none had the slightest clue of their plans. They had operated in stealth then, and it had worked well for their purposes. But now, it had become an open war. To survive, they would have to adapt. It was an issue that she would address at a future date, when she held a meeting. It would have to be soon, she realized. She had gained several new members over the past few days, and she wished to see who was still an active part of the organization. Perhaps after such a meeting, she would have a better idea of how to proceed. As it were, the simple groups within the Plague would not be enough. They would need an army. They would need spies. They would need more than a handful of warriors, the doctor, and his nurse.

Valentine's words sparked this thought process, and she hummed deep in her throat to let him know that she was thinking. She would need to distribute power - she could not be everywhere - and she would need most of those positions to go to those she trusted. Trust. The shadow-mare was incapable of the emotion in its simplest form, instead considering those who would not plot to overthrow her reign. She already knew that she would be forced to give her sister a high-ranking position, and perhaps that hardened mare Elizabeth, as well. It would serve her well to have such capable mares answering to her, but she would no more trust them with her life than she would the mare on the moon. She would need Valentine, and perhaps others, to balance their power-hungry tendencies. At least I will have Mauja, she reminded herself. In this, he will support me.

A small distraction stirred in the back of her mind as she realized that the stallion had not returned her touch. Was she really that terrifying, or did he simply not have the desire to mirror her gesture? Either way, she did not like the implications. Confused, she shoved the thought away. It wouldn't matter, so long as she held his trust and devotion. What she did not consider was the thin line between devotion and adoration - it was not a refusal to do so, but simply a lack of knowledge of such a thing. Finally, she returned her gaze to his. "Such a group has existed in the past, darling," she explained, "But that was before I took a leave of absence from Helovia." She paused at the memory, then shook her head, pushing it away.

"I'm not sure what has happened to my original comrades, but warriors are not all that we require. I'm sure that you have many fine talents that would be well put to use." It wasn't even a lie. She truly believe that he would be useful to her, both within the Plague and out. Call it stupidity to trust such instincts; tell her that she will regret thinking so well of someone. He will stab you in the back, one might tell her. You will regret allowing him to come so close. But she was a proud fae, and a stubborn one. She would stand by her analysis of the stallion.

[W/C | 573]