"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]