There is a harshness in her voice, a surprising curtness, and Ki’irha’s ears twist ever so slightly, the only hint she gives at how her skin burns beneath her pelt, how anger bubbles within her chest, how she wishes to snap something back. But it is the laughter which cuts the deepest, slicing through the ties holding back her own tongue, and she retorts, voice smooth as honey, but containing a cool chill. “My apologies for asking you anything at all. Seeing as how you’re out here screaming at a pillar, the only tangible existence I could find of this Kaos, I assumed perhaps you knew more than I. I apologize for not knowing the ins and outs of this whole thing, as I’ve heard nothing but rumors, and rumors tend to contain a fair bit of truth as well as fiction. I came here, looking for answers, and instead I found you.” Her mind travels to the illnesses that had plagued Helovia, to the great gods that had emerged from the Rift, at the confusion that had breached the surface of their peace, and remembered proudly how the people of this land had overcome and conquered. “We have fought gods in the past. Terrible sacrifices were made, but we overcame. Things are different, now, of course, that our deities have fled, and I’m not reckless enough to charge head on at something that I know nothing about. Certainly I am not daft enough to assume that I could ever take on the power of a god alone.”

The golden mare’s demeanor seems to shift, to calm, to ebb, and the starlit woman notices. Perhaps fear has tainted the other’s words, perhaps whatever was hiding within the shadows had begun to get the best of her, or maybe she is always a bitch. Still, she may offer the slightest bit of help, and for that, Ki’irha would be grateful, so she relents as well. “I seek my daughter, Vesper, my son, Virga, and their sire, Mesec. They hale from the World’s Edge. Virga, he has been missing for a while, but I know that Vesper and her father have been seen recently.” She falls quiet, hoping that her inquiries were not met with the same abrupt and bitter tones as her last questions, but it was foolish to hope such things during such a dire time.

Slipping from the shadows, buried beneath the landscape, always managing to be inconspicuous despite his brilliant golden frame and threatening crown, the Laurelin is, for a fleeting moment, a sight for sore eyes. He is a wolf, cunning and sharp and shaped by the mountains, as she had once been. He had been Lord, King, her fearless leader, and at a time, a time which somehow seemed so many lifetimes ago, she would have followed him to the ends of the earth. Perhaps she still would. Perhaps, despite everything else that had happened, she could still be what the Basin had made her. She had always felt that, always known that above all else, she was a warrior, a predator, a sword to be swung, a sacrifice to be made. She shifts ever so slightly, holding her crown above the devastation, and she knows that his words ring true. “Thranduil,” she murmurs with a smile, dipping her head in respect, for no matter how they had both left the great north, he would always be her king. Her smile fades, and her face sobers. “A wolf still cries at the loss of her pups. And it’s hard to brandish teeth or a sword when you don’t know what you’re fighting. Which is why I came here.” The conversation comes full circle as she gestures to the altar, and watches the pegasus reach out to touch the engravings.

The Laurelin and she were warriors, one in the same, willing to run into battle, leaving home behind them, knowing that they would either return home victorious, or find their places settled with the stars. They were the peacekeepers, the violent pawns, the forces that tried until their last breaths were taken to protect all that was worth protecting. She knew what his words meant, but they were just as easily misunderstood. She looks back to the mare, and somehow, deep within her breast, she feels compassion instead of anger. “You know not what I have seen, who I have lost,” she began, but her words lacked any venom, any spite. “Just as I do not know what you have endured. We know where we belong, what part we play in all of this. We are willing to be the sacrifices made. My family, my loved ones, I would charge right into death’s waiting jaws if I knew it would keep them safe.”

She shrugs ever so slightly, knowing that many would not understand, and even she wasn’t sure what made her so willing to spill her blood as payment for anyone else. It was as she had always been, as she always would be. “Besides, we aren’t even sure what we’re up against. Perhaps the gods are handling this. The gods have existed long before us. Should the world end in darkness, in fire, in blinding light, we will all die together. So maybe none of this matters anyways. Not this shrine, not our worries, not our banishment. We are only mortal, and should never expect to be treated as more than that by the gods. What is going to happen will happen, but if I have any choice in the matter, I want to be ready. I refuse to stand idly by.”