The burn of Tarik’s alcohol had (unfortunately) long worn off.  Iona was tired. She was grumpy (which wasn’t saying much, all things considered). And now she was really fucking pissed.  At the situation, of course. Clearly this whatever the fuck it was had deceived all of them.  But also at herself.  When would she learn to trust her gut about this?  Her ears flattened against her head as she watched the scene play out before her just like something from one of her nightmares.  She should have known.  She squeezed her eyes shut as if to stave off the wave of self-loathing.  Deep down she knew she couldn’t have known.  Not really.  That what she felt was nothing more than paranoia and a general sort of distrust - she hadn’t known that Kisamoa was evil, she just distrusted him because he was magic. But goddamnit a healthy dose of skepticism would have been really beneficial before everyone had jumped into making a happy hideaway for this thing. 

She stamped a foreleg angrily before exclaiming to no one in particular, “Motherfucker. I hate being right about this shit.”

Others began to appear as Kaos began to create quite a scene, and then there are more Gods and words being hurled back and forth.  Soon magic joins the fray and all hell breaks loose.  Iona wished that the scene was unfamiliar to her, but it wasn’t.  Same shit, different players.  She just hoped that this wasn’t the battle that would claim the life of someone she loved.  When she saw Nyx tossed away like a ragdoll, her stomach lurched.  It looked like that was a waning hope indeed. 

She began to weave her way through the outskirts crowd, not yet taking to the skies, for she wanted to know where she was going before she headed into the fray.  It was there that she passed Syrena and Tarik, and wished beyond anything that she could stand with them and watch the whole world burn and drinking until she was numb.  However, such a thing just wasn’t an option.  Not while the only people she gave a shit about stood tall on this fucked-up battlefield.  

”Don’t you dare drink all of that. I’m going to need some if we live through this,” she said to Tarik, flatly, in passing.  And with a nod to the stallion as well as Syrena, she was off in a flurry of wings and fury, spewing a litany of creative curse words in her wake. 

She landed near Tembovu, heeding the King’s call but actively looking for her sister - who she spotted tending to the fallen Nyx along with those she immediately recognized to be healers.  Iona’s gaze was drawn towards the children, and she was relieved to see many being escorted quickly away from this place.  Regardless of her personal thoughts of Toulouse, she’s pleased to see him here, especially when it’s clear that they will need as much support as possible. Iona’s first and only concern was to see the members of the herd safe. If that meant launching an assault on this creature, fine.  But if that meant falling back to regroup, organize, and live another day she could live with that option as well, even though her preference was to see Kaos relegated to a pile of useless bones.  

“It’s worth a shot. But whatever we try it has to be together or else it’s going to pick us off one by one,” she mused, aloud, wondering how they’d be able to inflict any damage upon this...thing.   “If we all attack the altar at once, maybe some of the attacks could get through,” she adds, hoping that perhaps the strange pulsating markings on the tower are of some importance to the creature. 

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