The white fae now roamed the dark forest of the threshold, something the Assassin had never done before. Though courage and bravery were prominent things in the girl's personality, the dark spooked her beyond belief, for she believed a pack of wolves would appear and maul her any second. But the more arrogant half of Accalia thought she could take the dumb beasts down with one powerful kick from her sharpened hooves. Golden hair no longer shone in the sun, but almost seemed black in the state of darkness that she was traveling in. Looking up in the sky, she realized that the moon had vanished into the state of being a new moon. A shiver ran up and down her body, and she bade herself on, trying to flee from the forest.

Accalia didn't know why she was so terrified at this moment, there was a feeling of encasement to the forest, especially at night, that she had forgotten so long ago to the endless green fields full of rolling hills she had traveled to get to this land. Red-brown eyes used to scan the whole area, and the girl was able to spot another horse from great distances, usually to avoid them, especially the wandering males. But the fae wouldn't take any of that. With her strong and tall build, Accalia barely would back down from a fight, and the very thought of submitting to another greatly pissed her off. Baring her teeth momentarily, and plastering her ears to the back of her head, anger shone brighter than any light in those eyes of hers until she felt her heartbeat calm down, normalizing again.

For the first time thinking more about herself than the herd she was devoted to, her sensitive ears picked up noise somewhere. Afraid, but at the same time urging herself on, the girl went closer to the noise, putting on a straight face. Spotting a dark body, blending in perfectly with night, yet standing out in the dense snow, a pair of milky white eyes were spotted and a grotesque scar. Scared, yet still walking towards the creature, she made noise to alert the horse that she was arriving. "Hello. I am Accalia of the Assassins", the white fae introduced herself, starting to feel the numbness of the snow, but pushing her weakness down. "Are you seeking a home?" the words spoken out of her velvety lips were no longer childish, but adult and professional sounding.

In a horrific 'accident', Confutatis was scarred hideously along her face. One eye turned a pale, cataract white, filmy like an old man's. For all the excruciating pain and the flickering, progressive loss of vision, it held one advantage. An advantage, admittedly, not much of an advantage in all honesty, but nevertheless it may the whole matter the tiniest sliver less worse. It made- and makes- her look truly ghastly, as if a door to her malicious soul had been thrown wide open. Even so, the loss of precious vision could never be fixed, at least not naturally, although one day maybe the gods could heal her. When the rustling of footsteps and the heady scent of a feral horse filled the air with its lingering scent, the half-blind mare skittered to the side, nerves stretched tight as elastic bands, an adrenaline-inducing, carefully mixed blend of terror and rage. Frigid as the air was, it made everything crisper, even the subdued scents of frost-wreathed earth and the tang of pine nearly bitter. The dark-hearted, blackened mare's ears tightened to her skull, and her lips peeled back, baring yellowed teeth in a display of aggression. Her knotted silver tail lashed, the coarse fibers rough against the thickness of her coat, creating a low hissing sound unpleasant on the ears, the sort of sound that made teeth grit irritably. Swinging her elegantly sculpted head, her one good eye stared out, sweeping through the thick curtains of falling snow and resting upon a pale coat. The mare was young, hardly more than a filly, a pretty young belle. Oh how delightfully she spoke, words so neatly crafted and elegantly put to Confutatis' audits. Accalia of the Assassins. Assassins! Ha! If this filly was representative of the Assassins, they must be a bunch of young fools running around, little swine trying to push their impudent noses into just about anything. And how daring. Offering a home to a complete stranger. For a moment, the howl of wind and snow blot out everything and anything else, but it doesn't matter anyways. In just a few steps, Confutatis has covered the distance between them, neck arching rigidly, nostrils flaring and carriage haughty. Stepping much too close for the other's comfort- at least she hoped- the cruel bitch halted, lips curling, a frost-dusted, intangible being, just a wraith in the night. There was a brief second when Confutatis considers simply ending at this intrusion of person space, and turning away to delve deeper in Helovia, land of the sun, but she does not. Instead, the hard-hearted beast spoke, in a cold, condescending tone as if she has taken particular hate to this empty-headed child. "Well, Accalia;" she drawls drolly, not a hint of a grin about her charcoal lips. Utilizing a smile, no matter how fatal it promised to be, would be as if she felt the need to defend herself- from a preposterous child. "I don't really care for a home- not with any little darling Assassins home to one-year-olds" The bestial mare pauses, her good eye sparkling vindictively. "Do you always simply offer a home to any stranger? What, precisely, is to say I won't cut your throat in your sleep?" Snow whips at her rugged body and the wind howls louder in her scarred ears, an entity struggling to tear her from the world, carry her off. Stoic and hard, an uninviting block of chiseled black stone against the wind's whining, she plants herself deep into the earth, utterly bored with the entire matter. The air grates at her lungs as she inhales, rasping softly from the frigid temperature. "That's right. Nothing." Now, move it before you lose your head. "In any case... care to tell me about where I am before I leave you in the cold?" The maleficent let her eyes drift shut, ignored the cold nipping at her ears, lusting after simply disappearing into the night, instead of this tedium. Nothing would- or, more precisely, be able to- stop her from taking off. Still, Confutatis irritably held herself from skipping over the typical introductions of thresholds and gateways. Why she was acting so restrained, escaped her. It wasn't out of any care for the equine that had appeared to meet her. It was not the darkness of the night, which only, if anything, tempted her. Children she didn't precisely like, nor dislike. So why was she still standing here in the swirling snow? CONFUTATIS and when you meet me, you at long last acquaintance yourself with death in all its magnificent glory.

"Trust me, you wouldn't have a chance." I had heard all that had been said for I had hanging out in a tree above them, covered by a mass of naked branches. These trees were still pretty crap in my mind, in no way were they like the ones at home in the jungle but they were thick enough for me to climb at ease and strong enough to hold a fully grown tiger. Also, it had never snowed where I came from and I had already decided that I hated the cold, wet substance. It dampened my dark coat, sending shivers through my body or at least, they would be, if I allowed myself to shiver but no, I didn't it was a sign of fear and I never felt fear. From above I had observed what was happening between Accalia and the man of a mare. The way she moved and spoke was like a snakes, slimy and secretive. She was trying to be scary, dangerous and intimidating but she really wasn't. In fact I laughed at her words of cutting our throats and thats when I felt I needed to add in my say. I was on a tree that was directly behind her so in no way would she of seen me, Accalia however might have but that really didn't bother me. She was friend, not foe. "Quiet, don't make me hurt you." There was no mistaking the threat dripping like acid in my voice. Silently I stand on my branch then leap down gently onto to the ground which was coated in snow. I do not look at the dusty grey girl as I take my place by the side of Accalia, lifting my head from the ground and finally looking directly at her. I gaze at her, before shaking my head and looking down at the ground with a look of disgust on my face then look up to Accalia, trying not to sound to harsh but a depressive tone still being told in my murmuring voice. "Why her?" I then look back to her, looking her up and down - like she was a snake tossing empty threats about. "So what makes you think your so special hmm?" "blah blah blah." OOC: Couldn't resist popping in :| KUMAL TEST ME, I DARE YOU.

The voice that spoke from those wicked lips was sharp, and edged like a dagger. There was a certain risk to the voice that sounded through the woods, ominously speaking. Deadliness. If only this horse could be sided with the outcast band, they would increase not only in numbers, but in the fighting strength of their force. But the next words that she spoke infuriated Accalia. One year olds. A chuckle was emitted from her velvety lips, so strong, in fact her whole body shook with laughter. Rage was radiating below. How dare she insult the outcasts, and herself. The fae seemed light and feminine, but what was truly hidden were her sinewy legs packed with muscle, her body strong ready for the fight, and deadly intelligence. Don't judge a book by its cover.Accalia didn't fight with skill. There was a rage factor involved that made her much more dangerous than any horse with previous knowledge of the fight.

"You should choose your words carefully. We are anything but one year olds. Skilled fighters, that's more like it. Are you sure we wouldn't just decide to come up and slit your throat in your sleep?" Accalia questioned with a high pitch feminine laugh that she forced from her throat, to mask her swirling emotions. The first thing that the white girl wanted to do was rip apart her flesh and watch her bleed and the mare's writhing body below. "You are in the Threshold", the words were actually spoken kindly and sincere. The anger that had been present a few seconds ago was starting to ebb away. "It is where newcomers begin their journey for a home", a laugh was accompanied by her words. "Just keep in mind, Assassins are for deadly horses, wanting to bring justice to others. We are in need for strong, intelligent horses which is why I came to you", the girl said, and at the same time her ears picked up a sound behind her.

Kumal. She had known the silent footsteps by now, recognizing how the cat walked. Stealthy, silent, deadly, Accalia had now grown to like the tiger. "Kumal", the fae hissed, hoping to make him stay quiet for a millisecond. The girl was going to try to recruit her. It was her duty after all. "She's special. Strong, intelligent, a power house. I can see infinite potential in her", the fae said glorifying the brutish mare. But in all truth, it was all correct.

Mordant, trenchent, vitrolic and acrimonious; that was Confutatis, and they were she. Nefarious, cruel, judgmental, vindictive, wicked, disparaging and poignant, splenetic and wrathful, the she-devil's thoughts running a thousand times more berserk and malevolent than what must surely be nearing the whole world's population. Murderous and blind- in both a literal and metaphorical sense- she ran light-footed along the perilous edge of madness, her sinister desires and poisonous conspiracies the only things holding her back from the edge. Minded with a head of frozen steel, unbending to even the dragon's flame, the hellion kept a certain degree of both twisted logic, even during the middle of the storm roaring around her, constant in her diabolical life. This was the mare who had skinned her own child with her mouth of acid, her tongue sloughing the very pelt of her newborn from sinew and weak muscle, and watched him scream; merciless, heartless, relentless, all with a deadened look in her eye. Unflinching, unmoving, stoic as the tree flowering up while the earth crumbled and faded around its roots. The bitch had no desire to leave with this little mare, who declared herself a true warrior. She was no follower; she was ambitiously satanic, barbarous and feral in her methods, and her lust was not the beastly stallion but power, aptitude for a trait in its greatest state. To follow the child was to follow another, another both younger and lesser, and henceforth of uselessness to her. In any case, Confutatis, the maddest and most wicked of all, hungered for strength of her own, not reliant on a leader of some band or other. With that, her mind made in finality, the words that were volleyed at her tried to cling hopelessly, before slithering and falling off, much the way soldiers lobbed themselves at a castle wall before realizing only a traitor on the inside would bring them to their goal. But for these men, there was no traitor. Indifferent, careless, aloof; the she-wolf flicked her tail and twitched her ears, bringing the flow of blood rushing back to her audits. The galvanizing, continuous fall of snow obscured all and any warning to danger, but when one eye is broken and blinded, unseeing of danger, Contutatis' other skills had developed to make up for the death of it. Predatory scents were hardly unknown, and immediately the savage stiffened, not caring for the tedium of this one-sided conversation, searching to pinpoint the source. The foolish beast exposed his hiding spot, and with the rumbling, hoarse growl of horse-speech, the damned laughed coldly, colder than the ice that frozen over the ponds. She had a respect for the solitude of predators, their lonely ways and quick teeth and faster paws, their silence and glorified beauty; but allying oneself to such a group, to be tied down to a band like a collared unicorn, was both unnatural and pathetic, unheard of to her scarred ears. Fickle is the beast, so the monster is, and at last the dark, unerring, uncaring mare speaks, bland and indifferent to suffering and pain. "No I said, and cajoling and flattery will not change that fact; leave me be, child and beast." And with that, an insolent swagger to her long step, she disappeared into the dark night, the monster that roams. CONFUTATIS and when you meet me, you at long last acquaintance yourself with death in all its magnificent glory.