While Yael would not be dismayed to have some parts of history repeat itself, she has taken to staying out of politics to the best of her ability. Here, there are no preconceived notions, no strong opinions of rank jostling, no prejudices against action that does not directly affect herself, or her closest friends - which at this point, is primarily Lyanna. Maybe Gaal. Rexanna, though she hasn’t seen the gold-and-black unicorn in a while, which is disappointing. The rest are kind enough - to a relative stranger, who still has very much to learn.

Incoming from recent excursions, Yael lands with poise and grace, touching down with years of practice to her dainty little hooves, windswept mane looking more like a bird’s nest than any type of hair. She spies Toulouse, and before it occurs to her that he has everything with him, she greets him with a warm nicker. “Toolouse!” Yael calls out, taking spirited steps towards the silk bedecked gelding. The unexpected takes a moment to register in her mind, but when it does, she maintains a light-hearted tone. “Are you going on a treep?”

If so, she assumes others know. But at the least, someone should know the Sleuth had left.

yael

iona

Iona had kept up with her rigorous schedule of aerial patrols, keeping a wary eye upon the borders. It seemed that thieves had again grown quiet, but she knew that they were ever-lurking in the shadows. It was Yael - a woman she knew by name but not personally - who drew her gaze - the golden pegasus’ form unmistakable as she made her way back towards the Edge.  However, Iona’s attention was captured when the gold pegasus changed course unexpectedly and descended, as if something had caught her gaze.  Intrigued, Iona hastened her pace and made her way towards a clearing near to where she’d seen Yael land.  She was surprised by the voice she heard before she could breach the trees. 

I am leaving, comes the unmistakable voice of Toulouse.  Her ears involuntarily flick backwards when the Edge is referred to as dreadful, but the dark mare holds her tongue.

Iona wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the fact that he was leaving them. It had been clear to her from the very beginning that he’d never had the well being at the herd at heart, at least not in her eyes. How could he?  How would someone who loved this place be so cruel to its citizens - to threaten death for power and pettiness?  To pass judgment freely and without cause and crumble when the judgment came in turn, lashing out at those who were members of this herd that considered itself family. Perhaps it was better this way - that he was leaving and taking his attitude with him. Iona had never looked upon the gelding the same way after he had nearly killed Raeden.  Prior to that, she had so little to judge him on.  She knew his face from meetings, from one incomplete conversation where he told her he had intelligence yet failed to divulge it, and from the moment on the cliff’s edge when everything had changed. Since that moment she’d been unsure what had changed, but she didn’t care now.  He’d passed judgment on her ability to lead based on something. In return, did not trust him.  He’d certainly done nothing to earn it back. Turning his back on the Edge ensured he never would.  

Iona expected to feel something, now that he was leaving them.  Anger. Frustration. Maybe even relief. 

But she felt nothing at all. 

She doesn’t step from the shadows, nor does she particularly care if she’s spotted.  She has little to say, regardless. However with Toulouse’s departure, she’d certainly have work to do.  She was already making a mental inventory, though she’d make sure she saw him cross the northernmost border before acting accordingly.