After finding her sister in the Threshold, Lakota found herself leaving the home of her mercenary group to wander through its boundaries. Tall pines met her at every turn, yet their presence did nothing to dissuade her. Face was constructed into a perfectly passive look, uncaring and detached. Cold, as if someone had taken what could be a beautiful visage and slipped a thin sheet of ice over every feature beneath her dark ebony skin. The tall mare prided herself on her silence and ability to move about the world like a wraith; empty, unnoticed. At times she would amuse herself quite thoroughly with the idea that she would have been better of as an Informant. But no, Lakota was not made for haggling information out of others. Silver tongue she may have when situation called for it, but she liked lacing it with poisonous words instead. Getting things through brute force, uncaring of the emotions of others. That was her way. Bored and growing rather annoyed by the happy atmosphere of the warmer season, she kept to the sparse shadows of the trees. Dark color stood out far to much in the brightness, preventing her from slipping about unseen.

Ruminations of another interrupted her, another vixen coated in similarly shady colors. Staring deeply into a pool of water that clung to the surface of the earth. She did not appear to be an oracle or a seer of any sort, so staring at her own reflection seemed like a waste of time to the sharp tongued mare. Perhaps she eventually thought the same for she shook her head as if disgruntled. Lakota stepped forward, unhappy that she could not loom over this mare for they were equal in height. Nevertheless her lean bodice drove her forth, vibrant violet irises watching the other mare intently. "Lost or searching?" She spoke, voice cool and silky. It was difficult to keep her trademark annoyance with all other souls at bay, but she managed fairly well. "Lakota, Poisoner of the Grey. You are?" Seeming almost unwilling to be kind at all, though her visage never wavered from its icy stare. It wasn't as if she was threatening the dame, she simply didn't care much. If your name wasn't etched into her ribcage, you weren't shit to her.

Eyes dance with emotion that veers towards anger, one that Lakota is deeply familiar with. Instinct tells her to react in the same manner, but realization comes and whispers in her brain that it is not directed at her. Perhaps she had been in deep thought when Lakota happened upon her, and the reaction was inevitable? Whether or not she is correct the tense muscles relax to a visible degree, and Lakota lets the edge of her mouth twitch up slightly. It’s hardly able to be called a smile, more wry grin than anything, but what the heck she tried. Soft sigh escaped the mare’s lips and Lakota understood fully. Sometimes that question brought up rather terrible memories, and she couldn’t deny that if she had been asked it upon venturing into Helovia she would have reacted quite the same. Not that any of that showed on her regal, composed face. Response is brutal and terse, and wry smile appears once again. She likes this mare.

Vivid violet irises harden and she takes a miniscule step forward. ”Then you are brought here by similar reasons I too once found my way into these woods.” Compassion and empathy do not flow within her tone, but it is clear to anyone who listens that she can at least relate to Circe’s hatred. Though she is wise to realize that Lakota isn’t there to entertain her, for she too gets straight to the matter at hand. Lakota is willing to draw her into the shadows that always seem to encase her, to take her into the Grey should she be open to the idea. Circe, huh? ”This is the Threshold of Helovia, land of wanderers. These trees always seem to draw newcomers, and many come to this place to recruit. Helovia is a land of magic, with Gods that peer into our lives to bless us at random moments. There are four herds and multiple bands, one of which I belong to. The Aurora Basin, racist unicorns though no doubt strong. The World’s Edge, open to all races and bordering the western edge of the sea. The Windtossed Foothills, with a recent change in leadership, to the east. The Dragon’s Throat, a militant herd that lies in the south. Then there is the Grey, whom I belong to. A group of mercenaries and spies that fight for those who cannot, working in the middle for peace that cannot be won through kind words. We are the misfits, in a way. But we are a family and we work in a tightly knit fashion, only taking on tasks if we are sure to be paid and never leaving our neutrality. From what I know there are only two other growing bands, which are too small to have a name to fear that I know of.” Flippant tone explains this all in a clipped, even tone that is completely impartial until it comes to her precious band of fuck-ups. They gnaw on her heart like little grub monsters but she deals with them anyways. She smoothly answered both questions in one go, using her time wisely. Wishing to return to the shadows she loved, though quite intrigued by the mare by this point.

It is not Lakota’s job to be interested in Circe’s past, nor is it her right to peer into her mind and pick apart what brings her to the Threshold. She didn’t go around shouting her backstory to the world and wouldn’t reveal it easily even if asked, so she made it a point to never delve farther into the personality and reasoning of a person than need be. When accepting Murdock, she’d observed everything about him. No vagabond would make it past her into the Grey and wreak havoc if she could stop it, but she didn’t want or need to tear someone apart and dredge up terrible memories merely for the sake of knowledge. It was a respect and courtesy she handed out to everyone, merely because she wanted them to do the same for her and know that they could not ask her of her earlier times without getting teeth around the ear or a cold look.

Circe seemed to mull over her words for quite some time and Lakota let her. It wasn’t an easy decision to make after all, there were plenty of routes to take. That first step would be the one that decided her path for likely the rest of her life, and would define major parts of her future. Lakota didn’t expect her to jump straight into a herd without contemplation, like many Lakota had either directly met or heard about. She had a solid head on her shoulders and took Lakota’s granite-like personality with a teaspoon of sugar, surprisingly. Normally it was salt in that shallow pewter bowl. It was a reason Lakota surprisingly wouldn’t be adverse to Circe becoming a part of her family, simply because she was a mare that for once Lakota believed could have her back in a fight. It was true she trusted all of her awkward fuck-up family members to do the same, but characters such as Phaedra did not know the art of battle and war. Rafe and Osiris were the only other warriors she knew directly by name, and Murdock had only just been accepted. Circe however she could see both in Intelligence and on the battle field. It demanded a certain increase in respect from the blue roan, not that she had any qualms with giving it. She suspected if given the chance they could get along rather well.

Tone is careful but not stuttering and Lakota allows it with a carefully tuned ear. Hesitance is weakness, for it means you are prey to the finicky nature of your own mind. Circe’s eyes are guarded, much like Lakota’s but with a different feel to it. She is doing it consciously, whereas Lakota blocks out everything from her gaze. Twitch of one corner of her lips is all Circe receives as Lakota thinks. ”Everything is a gamble, Circe. There are a thousand things you could be that my eyes cannot perceive, and it will be a gamble to bring you to my home and into the ranks of my family.” Tone is swift and precise, but honest. Everything is a gamble, after all. You roll the dice a thousand times to try and win your fate through the number on the cube and the skill left in your body. However, Lakota was willing to roll that dice for Circe. ”I would stand for it, yes. You are sound of mind, a good head on your shoulders, and you’ve yet to anger me in any way. Having you at my back would not be a bother. All you must do is follow me, and if my mistress decides you are worthy, you may call me sister,” she finished. That is all to be said and all that will be said. Turning, Lakota braved her trust enough to show Circe her back, though violet irises glowed over her shoulder. Flicking her tail in motion for the other woman to follow, setting pace for the Deep Forest.

[[Want to change Circe to an Outcast and I can post a thread for her and Ktu? :)]]