It was not often that the shadow-mare gave in to memory, but on this day, she chose to do so. It had been a quiet day, and she had retired to the shade under a clump of trees near the hot springs. They had steamed faintly in the morning air, and she had allowed herself, for a few moments, to doze. It was then that her mind delved into the past, pulled from thin air a conjuration of a mare that she had known excessively well for a short period. It was odd how those that she disliked the most had become her most trusted; Faelene, for example, had almost earned her enmity, but luckily, the Empress had realized that the red-maned spoke sense. Now Faelene was the Basin Thief, alive and well among her highest ranking officials.

Similarly, the dark, scarred mare that had been imprisoned with her within the Throat had earned her trust. Their first meeting was tense as both of them strove to prove that they were better, harder, more racist than the other. Presumably, the shade had won, as Elizabeth had rather easily fallen under her rule in the weeks to follow. And when they had been captured, they had plotted the downfall of the Throat. The jackal had escaped, leaving her behind - and it had taken a long time, far too long a time, to get the remainder of her herd out of their clutches. They would pay for it one day, of that the Lady was sure, but for now she had been content to declare neutrality with the Throat in return for the release of her followers. Elizabeth had not been among them, and she had wondered what had become of the mare.

And so it was that the call came to her half-asleep auds. She flicked them uneasily, struggling for a moment to remember. Her head shook slightly, amber gaze opening. And then she raised her head, assuming the regal stature that had become so inherent to her persona. It sounded like Elizabeth, but surely that could not be the case. Pistons began to move in a blur. She would not sprint, no, it was not an emergency, and she was sure that there were many closer to the source of the call than she. She would not rush. Instead, she cantered easily across the valley. Upon her arrival, she counted far more than she had expected, and a swell of pride rose in her breast. They were her family, her followers, and they had surpassed her expectations for patrolling her borders.

There was Crowley, the stallion that had grown to hold a place amongst her most trusted. He had proven himself time and again, taking a pegasus prisoner and recruiting many to their cause. He would be well rewarded, one day, of that she was sure; the beginnings of a plan sprouted in her mind, but she pushed it aside. That would be for later. Beside him was Totem, a new recruit, one that she knew from his desire to patrol her borders. She was indifferent to him, mostly because she had not spent much time with him. She had, however, watched him closely, and Crowley had recruited him into her organization with her blessing. She would have to ask the brindled stallion if Totem was doing well.

And there was Lupus, the wolf that had joined them. He, too, had accepted an offer of an alliance with the Plague. She had nothing against other species. In fact, she shared a certain kinship with the canine, as she could shift into a jackal. She knew firsthand how useful such a one could be as an ally, and he had continually proven his worth. She hoped that he was satisfied in her lands; she would hate to lose him. Watching him warily was the young Frost Fyre. The filly had seemed to adopt Psyche, and the Empress was sure that the youngling could be molded to her ways. She really should make more time to be a mentor to the fae, but she had trouble sparing enough time for even her trusted advisors. She would have to do something about that.

And finally, facing the little half circle that had formed, was the mare that had been on Psyche's thoughts not even half an hour before. She looked none the worse for wear, and the shade was sure that she would spend much time discussing where Elizabeth had been for all this time. With her was an oddly colored mare who did not seem particularly pleased with either the company or the lands - but then, she could just be one of those mares that wasn't happy about anything. A mental shrug, and then the Lady addressed the small gathering. She greeted her own first: "Crowley, Totem, Lupus, Frost Fyre," she called them each, a touch of warmth in too-sweet vocals.

Perhaps they knew by now that her words were an enticing honey, designed to draw them in; regardless, they would know that there was an undercurrent there reserved solely for them. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps it was affection - no matter what it was, though, it was there. Finally, orange orbs turned to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth. I do hope you are well, darling? It's been ever so long. We have much catching up to do, you and I. And you, my dear," she added, addressing the oddly-colored one, "I'm afraid I don't know you. My name is Psyche the Dark Empress, the Lady of the Aurora Basin. Welcome to my home."

"Talk talk talk."