How did she always seem to end up alone?

It was her own fault, she knew that. She had a particularly abrasive personality, and she had deceived many, killed many, all for her own gain and for that of her race. She didn't think of her sins as wrong, but simply necessary actions for the betterment of her kin. She knew that other, weaker, beings were squeamish at the thought of the violence with which she had been raised, but she was better than that. She was of a higher order than they. And she would emerge on top. But they had never, and would never, understand. They would remain blissfully unaware of her upbringing, the stain on her heritage that was her father, so maddened by his hatred of the inferior beings of the world that he blindly murdered the shadow-mare's mother. But even she had deserted the young Psyche, running off in fear. Why she had returned, Psyche had never understood, but that it was to her death seemed unfair.

Not that the jackal knew of fairness. By many standards, it was unfair for her to have seduced the FrostHeart, only to leave him at a gallop when she began to develop feelings for him. It was unfair to steal their daughter away and sentence her to a life without a parent, much like the life she had led. It was unfair for her to return and simply be handed her old life back. Well, not all of it - sure, she had returned to power in the Plague, and she had even gained leadership over the exiled Edge herd. But that was only because Mauja had disappeared, much as she herself had. How ironic for her to return, for her to seek him out and ask forgiveness in the best way she knew how (though she'd never admit to it as such), and then for him to leave her.

That was unfair. But then, it could just be her skewed sense of fairness.

A sigh left her maw, amber orbs scanning the horizon. At first, she thought she was seeing things - a flash of red here, then there. But no, she could see now that what she had assumed were tricks of the light were, in fact, other unicorns. Drawing closer, she made out Valentine's unique markings and a slight smile graced her lips. She had met him only recently, and his effect on her was uncanny. She liked him as much as such a fae could like anyone; she certainly preferred him over the FrostHeart at this moment. The thought soured her smile, and her face returned to neutrality. The fae, also marked in red, though less so, was unknown to the shadow-mare, though something about her was oddly familiar. Unable to place it, Psyche whisked the thought from her mind.

A soft neigh was her way of greeting. She was fairly sure that she had not interrupted anything, as the two did not seem to have been talking. She nodded to Valentine, a more personal form of saying hello, and then spoke, her vocals a jangling set of chords in a sickly sweet tone. "Well, hello, darlings." Her smile was a fake one, though a good one. They would likely never notice the unhappy thoughts dancing behind her eyes. "A lovely day for a stroll, isn't it?"

[W/C | 563]

"No. At that moment in time I was not alright. I was lost in memories of winter's past, which are not so pleasant."

It was weakness, plain and simple. It was also hypocrisy for her to think so, as she had found herself immersed in such thoughts herself. But to distinguish between the two: she kept her thoughts to herself, holding them to her mind, under lock and key, while he simply allowed them to come to light. No, he did not provide details - not that she needed them, having heard his tale previously - but it was an admission just the same. In any other, perhaps she would have regarded it with a cold stare, an aloof nature, for she was intolerant of such behavior in herself. But she liked Valentine, and trusted him to stay rooted firmly on her side, regardless of her level of agreement with her personality.

Still, he was oddly soothing to her, as though his persona and hers offset each other in such a way that tipped the scale into a balance. Therefore, she accepted not only his vulnerability, but also his rather over-the-top greeting, complete with an affectionate nudge. His muzzle was soft and glided smoothly over her dark pelt, and she felt some of her worries slip away. She murmured her own greeting. Still, she found herself distracted by the fae before her: she was familiar, eerily familiar, and the shadow-mare felt that she should know where the snowflake had come from. "The winter wind is soothing," the fae told her, neither friendly nor with enmity.

"Perhaps to some," she conceded. "But not for those of us who have been here a tad too long for comfort." Amber orbs glanced over the femme's body again. What was it that was so familiar? Her physique alone was indistinguishable; her coloring was not even that remarkable. What held the jackal's attention was the bloody tips of the flicka's banner, waving gently in the wind that they so innocently discussed. A flash of a memory: red tips disappearing in thick foliage, and she was chasing them, chasing him, chasing -

Paladin. Immediate recognition flared in her mind, and for a moment, she had to resist the urge to catch and hold her young niece in revenge for her father's role in the invasion. But she reigned it in, quickly, turning to Valentine to hide the sudden intrigue in her eyes. He was speaking to her anyway, so it was all the more believable. "So, Psyche, how have you been? I haven't seen you for a while." She smiled at him, a poisonously sweet smile, though a bit more real, a smile reserved solely for him. Her emotions were strictly under control once more. "Darling, it's only been a few days," she laughed, but it was a kind laugh (for her). "I have been quite well, though, thank you. So," she continued, turning to the snowy mare, "I'm afraid we haven't met, dear. My name is Psyche." Better to play dumb. Don't want to scare her off, now, do we?

[W/C | 515]

So many family ties. She had hoped that by coming to Helovia, she would escape the poison of her father's blood, but it seemed that it had followed her here. Would Paladin's daughter also be a blood-traitor? Probably. It would follow that being raised by liars would make one believe their lies to be truth. It disgusted her, that this pretty little femme would be so blinded by what she had been raised to that she would never be recruited to their side; her eyes spoke of intelligence, and she would surely have been an asset. And what wonderful revenge it would make, to 'corrupt' her dear brother's daughter! But alas, some things were not meant to be.

Still, she had no desire to harm the pretty vixen, or at least not yet. Perhaps she could glean some information from her before sending her on her way. But her niece's questioning caught her somewhat off guard; of course she would have known of Mauja's injuries - who hadn't? "The FrostHeart has been indisposed for quite some time now," she answered smoothly, unwilling to give up the secret of Mauja's disappearance. "But we are faring quite well despite his absence." Sure, she herself was not necessarily well, but she wouldn't tell that to Ophelia. Especially without knowing where her loyalties lay.

And then another question that surprised the shadow-mare. The blood-maned femme referenced her father. What was she doing, testing the waters? Did she want the jackal to admit her heritage, to show her distaste for everything that Ophelia had been made of and from? Well, two could play that game. "So he did, my dear," she admitted, adding, "I'm afraid it was not a decision that was in his best interest." Her words were sure, but held an uncaring tone. It was a threat, though a subtle one. And then Valentine asked her next question for her.

[W/C | 317]

A soft chuckle left the shadow-mare's maw at the fair one's words. "I believe that Deimos had made himself rather unforgettable to quite a few of us, my dear," she agreed amiably. Ophelia was proving a curiosity, or at the very least entertaining. And, besides, she was a unicorn - or at least half, depending on her maternal side - and the dark fae had no reason to chase off such a being. She chose not to contemplate if Soleil had borne the femme - a shadow passed over her mind at the thought - and instead began to mull over her niece's rather mysterious behavior. She had a secret, of that, the jackal was sure. But what was it?

She chose not to respond to Ophelia's response to her vague threat; it was not worth a continuation, as the young mare had nothing to do with the rift between siblings. Especially as she had chosen not to fight against them in the invasion. Which of the fighters did she consider friends? Perhaps the FrostHeart had a connection with the fae, which of course she would have known about had she not run off like a scared filly. It was a sour thought, and brought her back to thoughts of her king's disappearance. It was a memory that replayed in her mind constantly, the fear in his orbs haunting her dreams throughout the night, peering at her from reflections in the ice. Perhaps it was his ghost, destined to follow her for eternity to remind her of her mistakes.

Valentine was moving closer to her, lacking in subtlety but, no doubt, with some noble intention of protecting her. She resisted the urge to snort amusement - when would the silly steed learn that she would be more well-equipped than he in a fight? He asked for further clarification about Ophelia's group of mercenaries, and the winghunter chose to provide her input. "I am assuming that you are a group of many skills. Fighting, no doubt, and intelligence? Perhaps even healing? I am only guessing, of course, but those are skills that I assume you provide." That was, after all, the whole point of a mercenary group, to provide to others what they could not do for themselves.

[W/C | 377]
[OOC | Sure, Phi can read her mind to get the info about Maumau. Might make for some interesting plottings later. ^^]

Were she a kinder being, perhaps she would have felt a touch of guilt for her treatment of the stallion who loved her so inconceivably. But she wasn't, and she didn't. She did not, however, become more annoyed. Ophelia explained the group, repeating the words that the shadow-mare herself had only just spoken. Unlike the subtle rebuke of her words, her niece's disdain was obvious, and momentary amusement erupted unwarranted in her mind. Who would have thought that she would have something in common with her brother's child? Perhaps some family resemblances were more than skin deep.

Well, the child had proven herself useful, for sure. Even if the jackal had no intentions of utilizing the Grey's power, she filed the information away for later use. If she had learned one thing for sure, it was that the future was never certain. It was of the FrostHeart that she thought of ruefully and her own rash actions of the past, and the many actions as of yet unplayed. The world was ever-shifting, ever-changing. One must have foresight in order to be ahead of the curve, or else be cursed to fall behind, forever foraging in the dark, desperately questing for light and meaning and the ability to control one's destiny. She had fallen before, sure. But she had clawed her way out, back to the top. Once again she was in a position to control fates, and she did not intend to lose that position.

Her thoughts of Ophelia had turned from hostile to accepting, if not favorable. As long as the fae did not get in the way, she posed no real threat. A though in the back of her mind that the Grey would be available to the other herds as well was pushed away, for later review. She would plan, and she would plot, but the mare had lightened her dark mood, and for that, she decided to smooth Valentine's metaphorical feathers. "Yes, I am no one's master," she said sweetly, a smile on her maw. Of course, it was a blatant lie, but there you are. Some things never change, regardless of mood swings.

"Besides, my dear friend is, of course, more than capable of his own thoughts and speech, as are the rest of the herd residing here." There. She had, of course, established dominance, but it seemed to be a matter of male pride that no female held them on a leash. Amber gaze roved lazily back to Ophelia, and focused intently on her vaguely vacant gaze. No, she was seeing things. The fae continued to talk, never pausing. Still, there was the briefest, lightest of sensations, almost like deja vu, and then it was gone. Odd, she thought suspiciously, but then dismissed it. Clearly, she simply needed more sleep.

"I will surely keep your offer in mind, though I doubt it comes without a price."

[W/C | ---]