Fury.

They dared to take her from her herd and her home - as abominable and temporary as said home was - and dragged her halfway across the realm. Not they - him. The giant snake with the poison-eyes. Hatred coursed through her veins as she allowed her own amber gaze to rove over the scaled body. True, her orbs may not hold the unnatural, sickly glow of the serpent's, but they held a venom all their own. It was the malignancy of insanity, the toxin of prejudice, the blight of superiority. It was enough to strike fear into many hearts over her six years of life, enough to force the last look of her victims to be one of terror as they realized that she would show no quarter, no mercy as she ripped them to shreds.

It was this very look that was on her face now, a face burning with resentment. Of course, the only quarrel she held with the snake was that he had been the medium of her capture; the remainder of her anger was reserved for those who had ordered it, those who believed themselves so far above her that they could simply demand her presence. And how wrong they were, the skyrat Sultans of the Throat - they were inferior, featherbrained creatures without an intelligent thought in their fluff-filled heads. And the shadow-mare, she was a creature of beauty and intellect, cunning and wits. She was dangerous, and she was a queen to their dictated position of servitude. And now, she was angry.

The snake asked her a question, a simple enough one at that. Kind, even, though the jackal had no patience for such kindness. They dared send a vessel without the mindset of a tormentor to take her captive? Did they truly think her so weak? Well, they would be in for a rude awakening, if they ever saw fit to show their cursed faces. She glared at her captor, deliberating. Perhaps she would not have answered, or answered cruelly, if he had been one of the impure species. But he was not. He was larger, likely stronger, and possessed some strange magic about him. She wasn't about to risk death. No, she had bigger plans. "I have been taken, Snake," she stated shortly. "I fare no better and no worse than is fitting for me at this moment."

[W/C | 398]

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"Talk talk talk."
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The snake's words were well-received; the shadow-mare chose not to unleash her fury on so brutal an opponent, sure that such a battle would be one that was not so easily won. She hadn't always had this skill, this ability to pick her battles; but then, she had never had to answer to a herd for whom she was responsible. She owed it to those who she now served, or who served her, depending on the viewpoint, to return to the Basin relatively unharmed and able to exact revenge for the many wrongs placed on the unicorns. She felt obligated to protect them, be it from stealth or from outright battle (gods know she preferred outright battle!), and so her mind turned to the task of escaping from her figurative bonds. "I hold no quarrel with you, Serpent," she told Bazilisk, more to command herself than to quell his mind. "I am not so foolish as your leaders would have you believe."

No sooner had she sank into the chaos of her own mind than Leander appeared. Gods, he was an awful sight, with those feathered appendages marring his golden pelt, an unseemly blight on an otherwise perfect bodice. Of course, he had no horn, either, but hornless was a lesser crime than pegasus. The hornless were merely scorned; the pegasi were a mutated pest of massive proportions. Given her druthers, she would enslave the hornless and simply kill off the skyrats. But then, given her druthers, she wouldn't be here, now, would she? Amber orbs greeted him with the cold passion of fury, cranium raised to portray her regal status even here amongst enemies. Especially here amongst enemies. It was a haughty, proud look that she carried on her features, one that told him that he would find no cooperation in her.

He began to speak. She neither confirmed nor denied that she had taken the FrostHeart's place; let them wonder if it was simply rumor, if they so pleased. Nor did she respond to a comment on diplomacy. She was not a diplomatic creature by nature, and had learned only the barest of such things out of necessity. Even so, her learnings would be used to rally unicorns only, not to garner favors from filthy vermin. Her gaze flickered briefly to the massive snake as he was addressed, and then returned to the sultan. It gave away no emotion save her bound anger. She was sure of that; she even contemplated remaining in silence, if only to throw him off guard. But her stature would not yield from the arrogance that she had first assumed upon his arrival; no, this, she would show, and continue to show for the remainder of her little visit.

He attempted to bargain with her, the silly featherbrained thing. It was almost cute, if he weren't so damned disgusting to behold. She let a cold laugh spill from her lips, chiming in a most provocative and seductive way, teeming with a malicious mirth that could cause hair to raise, teeth to grind against each other, provoke a flight instinct in many of the lessers. She didn't expect such a reaction from this skyrat - he had become a sultan somehow, after all - but it was the principle which she pursued with the action. "Your words are folly, as you well know," she began. "You no more expect peace with me than I do. I am not a peaceable mare." Another cold laugh. "I have no further use for any of your so-called friends, though they might wonder about the loyalties of the herds that have so failed to rescue them. But rest assured, I will not ally myself and my kin with you, but for now, I do not seek to gather more of you." She was angry, she was furious, and oh, how she longed to rip his feathers out one by one. She didn't have that color yet. What an addition to her collection it would be! But she would not give him the satisfaction of setting her temper on edge. No, she had more control than that.

[W/C | 688]

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"Talk talk talk."
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The Snake hissed, drawing her attention from the Sultan. Interesting, how ill at ease the skyrat seemed to be, how unsure he was of how to approach the scaled predator. Of course, she would have expected as much from a weak fledgling such as the Sultan of the Dragon's Throat - he was a lesser, and he would be flighty when confronted with a being who should be his enemy. She was his superior; she held nothing but respect for the Serpent, who seemed so unlikely to wreak unnecessary havoc, to begin unwarranted violence. What a shame that they would not put him to use as they should - as she would. He admonished her gently for her sharp tongue, and she eyed him emotionlessly. She did not concede to his request, but neither did she deny him.

The Sultan's words were empty to her ears, threats without the promise of following through. But he would not be worth her response. He conveyed his message, and she hers, and that was that - or it would have been, had not the Sultana shown her sorry face. But in her arrival was a gift of sorts: unity was a facade here, it would seem. The leaders of the Throat seemed to be at odds with one another; and the Snake, such an asset, was somewhere in the middle, or perhaps on a far side. Regardless, none of these pieces fit together, and it was this knowledge that the shadow-mare would take away from this little meeting. A small smirk lifted a corner of her mouth, her amber orbs filled with hate and transfixed on the Sultana. "You'll hardly know I'm here, darling," she responded, wicked glee apparent in her vocals. Ah, what a gift her capture seemed now.

One day, the Sultana would burn.

[W/C | ---]

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"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.