"Does he really need a name?"

d'Artagnan the red nosed reindeer approached the pair, a dry amusement in his voice as he answered Shuler's unspoken question with another question. Bacchus was Snö's little naked pet, the shade knew him to look at but had never spoke to the boy. He never had need to and it wasn't a common trait for him to take up idle conversation. The other he knew less, his muddy appearance only a distant memory from their first herd meeting, the Mender never was too observant of others around him. Always too distracted or bored, another vice on top of many vices. He approached the pair in a similar fashion, a rather lazy walk and a mind off on it's own adventure, only a flicker of a glance to the other two. Body siding up near the golden, leggy boy and sharing in his munching of grass. Lips twisting absently as he chewed.

Earlier he had been investigating one of their new caves, checking its properties and whether it would be useful for anything else other than shelter. Apparently not and the shade had soon lost interest and found himself wondering. Maybe he'd take a trip to the Threshold later that day, it seemed he should have lots to do with Psyche not here and the herd apparently left in the charge of himself and Deimos. Kou liked time to do her own things as too did d'Artagnan, the only problem was days like this. When one had nothing to do and even tempory charge of a herd couldn't cure it.

Instead he spent it with these unlikely pair. A slave and a unicorn, with Bird Song's sweet grass.

h e l l can't handle all of us

”Does he really need a name?”

The words of a stranger, following the fearful horse’s stuttering utterance of his name. causedShuler to raise his head from his nonchalant pickings of the basin’s still young Birdsong grass. The dun unicorn instantly recognizes the blood bay stallion, he had watched him approach Psyche at the gathered of the herd several days before, but he had yet to come to know his name. Shuler dips his head in respectful salutation, a dark hint of a smile lingering in the depths of his cold, gold eyes at. It seemed that d’Artagnan had no qualms about speaking his mind, and his distaste for the lesser, unfortunate equine was evidently apparent. Unbothered to say anything else right away Shuler continued to snatch up grass at a leisurely pace, standing beside the red nosed, oddly antlered unicorn as if they had done it many, many times before.

Snö, the name was all it took for Shuler to make the connection as to why this Rapha character had seemed so familiar. Shuler knew of Psyche’s daughter, and remembered vividly of when the black mare had fled in foal. He chewed thoughtfully on the slender, tender strands of grass, eyeing the horse with unwavering, if somewhat unnerving indifference. How fun, the Dark Empress’ daughter had acquired herself a fine little toy. Shuler almost felt sorry for him, at the nervous way he conducted himself and the perpetual state of fear that seemed to haunt the little horse’s ever move and breath. Almost. Raising his head and flicking his tail idly, he glanced back at the bay, just as another familiar face appeared beside him.

“Fairest Kou,” Shuler rumbled with pleasant surprise, “Yes, as much as I like to keep to myself, I suppose my return was somewhat inevitable. I am being quite sociable in fact, as you can see, making friends as it were.”

Though he spoke with genuine humor, there was more truth to Shuler’s words than typically present. He watched Rapha as he spoke, half wondering why the lowly boy was out wandering on his own, and if princess Snö knew of his absence, not that it mattered to him. It would be unfortunate though if the poor, groveling equine ended up subject to punishment, his spirit certainly seemed beaten and broken enough. Ever observant the golden stallion took note of the manner in which Kou lingered by the bay, her proximity hinting at something more advanced than just familiarity. Shuler’s gaze once more lingered on d’Artagnan, curiosity causing his eyes to linger longer than appropriate as the gears and thoughts began working and whirring and spinning through his head.

“If you would be so kind, Kou,” Shuler gestured to d’Art with a swing of his horned head. “Do introduce me to your friend.”

The slave spoke of Rapha being his name, which d'Artagnan barely heard as thoughts we're whisked away down the alley of poison and death. Thinking about all the new possibilities of finding more murderous roots, stems, leaves and flower heads to do his bidding. The dun said nothing and carried on eating and they all stood in relative silence for a while until his tricky Nurse turned up. The shade raising a brow and inwardly noting that this time she had followed him, saving the piece of information for future conversations. Her words came with soft feminine tones to which d'Art grunted as she pointed out his sore lack in manners, snatching up another clump of grass apparently unperturbed. Pitch tail flicking from side to side.

It was then the leggy boy of wood colouring spoke in answering to Kou's question, finally the Doctor's ears twitching with curiosity. Eyes flickering between them with an unspoken question; how did they know each other? Was he just not paying attention? Most likely. A piece of grass sat idly in his mouth, sticking out through grey lips as they spoke to one another. The Nightshade wondered why this Shuler had been in hiding, what was he hiding from? Blank and comprehending was his expression when the boy turned to him, d'Artagnan's pools lowering to a glower. Who the fuck is he staring at?

It was then his face contorted into one of offence when he was idly gestured to. The red fling his head into the air and snorted, finishing of the spare bit of grass in his mouth. Feeling it's juices run down his throat. "I am d'Artagnan the Nightshade, your Time Mender." He huffed out, a trifle hurt that he wasn't better known among peers, (not that he could talk). To which he then threw a glace at Kou, "Kou is my Nurse." Tones stressing his claim to her and with that he gruffly returned to eating. Flicking his tail in mild annoyance.

h e l l can't handle all of us

“Unfortunately my doctor doesn't make friends too easily, but once you become his friend he's quite squishy and adorable. He's also quite possessive."

Obviously D’Artagnan had no qualms about introducing himself, the blood bay kept a possessive watch and even more possessive position in relation to the dappled gray mare. Shuler tipped his head in a respectful curl, his short, black fore lock swinging at the edges of his amber eyes, shadowing the mirthful amusement there at Kou’s description of D’Artagnan’s more… friendly side. Assumptions lead the golden stallion to believe that the good doctor would not appreciate such frilly, soft adjectives being used to describe his demeanor, but even the dun would admit that Kou’s affections were evident and well meant. Shuler did not linger on Kou’s choice of words any longer than necessary, but rather turned his attention to her question, nodding thoughtfully in affirmation.

"Ineed.” He mused, "I’ve often traversed from place to place without any real purpose, but Psyche has offered an opportunity for the knowledge I’ve gleaned to be… put to good use.”

It was true. If Shuler had to define himself, he was more of a wander, a nomad of sorts, at heart. His legs were built for endurance, long, endless miles of trotting over the rocky, rugged and endless landscape that Helovia had to offer. Ever since his youth he had done just that, explored the wilderness, observed the creatures and individuals it offered him, and learned what he could use for his own devices in the process. He was well versed in manipulation, perfectly capable of acting if required, and lying and dishonesty were as natural to him as breathing. It was his analytical mind that allowed him to remember everything he saw, every face and every name that went with it, and with the Plague now settled here in the Basin, he could finally put all the data collected and material stored and locked away to work.

All for the greater good, of course, for the empowerment and betterment of the unicorn race. Shuler glanced at the equine who still lingered in his presence, and for once his scorn was unabashed and unhidden. He was surprised Pysche’s daughter had not retrieved her toy from their midst.