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Privately, Snö often thinks of Mauja and Psyche. Of how Psyche did little more than nurse her before leaving her; and how Mauja somehow attributed to Monster's death, to Thais' death. Of how Monster, who had been, maybe, little more than a simple beast in mind, but her closest, dearest friend, had turned into a dog. From enlightened unicorn to brutal beast. The mare, so often her words crass and uncaring, had, too, left the burden of society behind, allowing herself to romp and roam, although she did not romp, persay. Her tail flicked, a full creamy silver in color sweetly complimented by warm chestnut, as she moved carelessly across the undulating landscape of snow hardening to a rough crust as the coolness of night fell.
Beside her varnished chestnut form, the metal wolf clicked and whirred, moving seamlessly and smoothly, yet even less than Thais in mind. For a moment Snö contemplated it's rugged golden metal contours. What had she told the crafter Ulrik? Something about... oh yes. A wolf for the lady, he had said, or something much like it; so one day she could become the wolf.
A grim smile made its way across her delicately sculpted face, a face so beautifully made it was as if the ones who had given her form were afraid to do wrong, as if knowing her future persona and her erratic bouts of fathomless cruelty. It would've been quite the miracle, after all, if the fine lady named Snö was to turn out as a peace-keeper and hippie, a lover of trees and plants. With parents devoid of less than tolerance, more frequently than not, for equines without a sword upon their brows, it was of course that she would turn the same way.
"Tarak," Snö orders, voice still feminine and easy as ever, but with a commanding edge to it. Immediately the metal wolf that follows quickens to her forelegs, instead of staying near her hinds. For the gorgeous chestnut filly, of course, had seen someone, a red spot upon the black horizon, silhouetted by shifting, brilliant arrays of color, from easy sweet green to infusions of vivid red, to a shade of indigo that Snö quite enjoyed. Her hooves crunched over the snow, and her nares flared, scenting the air. With a tiny, tight sigh of disappointment, Snö picked up into a long-legged trot, the metal wolf gleaming under the starlight swiftening into a seamless lope beside her. Yes, despite being a machine Tarak was admirably well-made and smoothly co-ordinated.
Naturally, it had to be one of the Basin; time-mender, healer, and of the Plague as well. D'Artagnan. Unfortunately, of course, for Snö would've preferred a quick, bloody fight and swift kill, recalling the powerful sense of glory and love as she had thrust her horn through the breast of one who had so foolishly tried to 'woo'- rape- her younger, even more delicate form. Monster could not have stopped her then, although of course he didn't, instead supporting her. More memories about Thais, Snö realized, and she tossed her head a touch impatiently as she covered the ground towards the bloody form quickly taking on better shape.
Her heart sinks ever so slightly as she makes out a slender, feminine form beside him, and she slows to a walk. At this point, it would only make her look more the fool to turn, and yet she had more than a slight aversion to listening to crap about love. Kou and d'Artagnan, the perfect couple, Snö thought mutinously. Her mother, of course, had to be an abandoner of her. Father... was father. A bastard as well. Snö grumbled inwardly, recalling Tamlin the little ugly prince he had too clearly wanted to replace her with.
"d'Artagnan, Kou; out for a late night walk?" Snö asked, with a slightly imperious tone. Vain and condescending she often was, but she did feel a touch of respect, at the very least, for the couple. After all, surely Father and Mother would not have allowed them to become what they were if they were not more than able and loyal.
[This looks so ginormous o.o also, if you want I can remove Snö if you want to keep this private for d'Art and Kou!]
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