He arrives, silent as the substance for which he is named. Ink Akaith even chortles within Mirage's cranium, having taken a liking to him and the drawings he oftentimes orchestrates. He was a subtle creature, a perfect spy, capable of soaking up information like a sponge, whilst keeping the givers of the information ignorant to that fact. It was unfortunate that his voice refused to work, but if it did work, Mirage wondered if he would be nearly as useful, or willing, as he was now. No, she would not have him change at all, both she and Akaith enjoyed him as he was, not only because he served them with obedience and loyalty, but because he was a unique soul who had willingly become their friend. The WeyrLeader offered him the tilting of her crown, a warm gesture when performed by a mare of subtleties, a nod granting him permission to put his rank to use - he was Spectre after all, it was better for him to gain the information now than rely upon the (while still good, but certainly imperfect) memory of Mirage.

Kri had brought a sister from her homeland here, and the shadowy little mare proffered the same greeting to her, nodding her Arabic visage, drinking in all she could of the little belle. The breeze that rushed through the trees was different, as if renewed, refilled with an energy not borne of the Edge - Mirage spied the turbulent pelt of the child-like healer, and with nothing more than a curious peak of her brow raising, she diverted her attention back to the chocolate femme. All the happiness in being reunited with Kri had faded somewhat, as the seconds dripped by, creeping ever closer to the time when she would speak the reasons for this mood. In those seconds, Mirage could only assume by the silent body language that the news was solemn indeed, and she mentally braced herself for it.

Challenges, invasions, death and racism. All of it Mirage was loath to hear, all of it she wished had not befallen her beloved sister herd. Just as though they were one and the same, she felt their pain anew, as if someone had taken a whip afresh across her back, lancing at her hide. Akaith's scales prickled much like a bird's feathers, and from her vantage in the trees, she cawed a strange, worried tune, a song that spoke of the torment that she and Mirage went through upon hearing this news, despite the WeyrLeader's never-changing cool exterior. It was small, the little ways in which Kri's words affected her; a small tremor of a muscle, as if shooing a fly away where no fly had landed; a light wetting of the eyes, a small pool of tears that just as quickly dissipated and may as well not have been there; a sorrowful downwards curve of her lips; a sigh that shuddered a little bit too much when exiting her maw. It was a lot to take in, and while Mirage was not shaken by fear for what may come, she was perhaps, shaken by the fact that she suspected things like this would come, eventually - but why now? Why so soon? Why couldn't her beloved Qian's time last longer?

"I thank you, Kri, for understanding my stance on this invasion. I will support you, by not standing in your way - those who call themselves Qian, even in the Foothills, shall not fight. All I can offer is the attentions of my healers after the battle." Quietly she began, each word thought out and presented with her melodic, accented tones. It was difficult for her to riddle out the best course of action - was she betraying the Foothills? She knew the might of Kri's army, she knew the Foothills were as good as gone just with this conversation. Was it treacherous for her to not help defend them against this force? Against the Throat? She could march on the same side as the Throat - but then the Foothills truly would be pulverised - it was unnecessary, and besides, they were her allies. No, in order to preserve what alliances she could, she had to sit this one out, no matter the pain and discomfort it caused her conscience.

"My deepest sympathies for your fallen General; may he rest forevermore peacefully, may the wind always fill his wings."

Here the dark mare reached out to try and touch upon the Sultana's own soft nose, just a gentle brushing of velveteen muzzles. Pools of aureate looked to the little belle who stood so gloomy by her leader's side, and it was all Mirage could do to restrain herself from pulling the child into a warm embrace, to try and chase that gloom away. There was little she could do however, for she knew not what to say or do, and so she merely looked back to Kri and continued her speech. "The Protectors of the World's Edge would not hesitate to defend the Throat as if it were their own resting place." Mirage confirmed with a still quiet, but slightly stronger voice now, nodding to reaffirm the words' powers and meaning. "I will keep an eye out for this Tio creature." She added, glancing over to Ink, a silent order in her stare at him. "In the meantime, it would do well to have our warriors trek across the land to become better acquainted with the lands they would both be defending."

And now the matter of racism.. Adalwulf was a name that rattled around Mirage's memory like an old, faded photo floating on a breeze, dancing just out of her reach before she could finally grasp it. Yes, she had met the pale stallion, at least once, in the presence of Gunslinger. Oh, how different would the circumstances been had she lingered in Isilme, to see the effects the wars of the demi-gods had upon the lands, upon the inhabitants?! What if she had been swept away by the stallions, what if she had believed all that they said? But you did not. Came the voice of the one familiar she would always recognise. No, Mirage had always held onto her own beliefs, she had learned that it mattered little what adorned one's body; it was what adorned one's soul that mattered. "We will not be murdered." Her voice began, and into it, leaked some of the emotion that had been building up throughout this entire interaction.

"We shall not be moved. We shall not be murdered. We shall not fall to the pits of racism and serve others who think themselves more mighty than all else. We will defend ourselves against them; they shall not rise victorious. We will exploit their weaknesses and we will triumph."


"We are strong, my friend. Together, we shall not fail to survive this tumultuous world."

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