His steps had started lengthy and lithe over the unchartered terrain, a keen gaze of mint and kinder places affixed on the battle-born woman he chose to accompany. Toulouse had always had an inkling that Oizys was the daughter of Nyx, a hunch guided by his blurry memory of the fight and what had transpired in screams and wails on that horrid day; never would he forget how the grey lioness had strode in to shield the gargoyle like a true mother over her cubs. Oizys, though, was the kind of lady he did not often come to be friendly with but would always come to quietly admire.
Strength, the kind not of muscle but of character, was a trait the serpent always wished to see in his own self but never had.

"you're being nice,"
"Should I be alarmed-?"
-Toulouse laughed, shaking his lofty mane as she labelled him an 'asshole' and insisted he must want something.

Strides stopping as he came across looked like a horn bone, the kind you'd find imbedded on the skull on the likes of Sacre and even General Erebos. Poor Fellow, was all Toulouse could manage to press through the filters of his closing mind as he motioned with his left hoof to scoop the dark, algea covered bone from a puddle. Then remembering Oizy's words, his crown soon turned to look her way.
"You must think you have something you can give me then" He spoke, a brow raised in her direction. Toulouse wanted nothing from the giantess, except perhaps a little friendliness - he was new to the herd land, the family, and he knew no one except her. The gelding was no threat, he hoped she would come to see that.
"I was here that day" He uttered as he turned amongst the trees, soon to face the daring glare of the black altar. "I saw your mother run to yo-" He stopped, stammering, watching as the statue begins to hum, to glow.

Turning his shattered gaze to the first other member of the patrol he saw, Öde, Toulouse gave a great booming shout his way, soon to find Erebos's dark hide amongst the frightening backdrop and then Weaver.
"Öde!-" He had called, hooves bracing the earth with the expectation for something wild, something wicked to emerge next. "Erebos! Weaver!"
The liquid that oozed and flowed from the pillar had begun to lick the ground in front of him, brightening the earth and bringing even more life to it. Would it be so bad if he was to touch it...? Entranced, the gelding reached a hoof forward and towards the mysterious liquid, plotting to touch it. Would it bring him prosperity as it did the earth beneath?