You're busy dying if you're living in the past

It was a strangely beautiful morning. While the sky was not speckled in a brilliance of colors and instead particularly overcast, fresh snow fell from the clouds above, sprinkling the Basin in a pristine blanket. It was almost glaring to the eyes whenever the sun would manage to peak through and hit it just right, but for the Weaver of the Aurora Basin, none of this mattered to him today.

He couldn't see.

Not only that, but in the course of a single night, the brindle's skin had become infested with thick, inflamed boils. They were nearly everywhere across his hide; on his back, along his ribs, his belly, on his nose... Even in the areas lacking of one of the bumps his skin was angry, red beneath the dark fur laying over it and extremely sensitive. Thankful that he was at least in his right of mind today, Crowley was able to place just why he'd suddenly awoken like this. It was from the curse placed upon him by the Goddess of the Moon. The Weaver wanted to curse her name, demand why this of all things had been done to his impeccable self, but she would surely fall right out of the sky and make him regret ever thinking such a thing.

As the day began to progress, Crowley had decided it might be best to simply stand where he had awoken and wait out this horrendous trial. The world was black to him, and although everything seemed so much louder all of a sudden, he was fearful of careening right into the mountainside surrounding him. He was a creature of power, something to be feared, not some blind, bumbling fool with atrocious acne! Thankfully, the small cave in which he always stayed during the night was ample cover from any prying eyes, and he was content to stay here until...

Oh, no.

His lady had called forth a meeting, this he could tell from the sheer volume of her voice. It held little urgency, however, which he was grateful for; it would take him some time to figure out just where she was. Though honestly, a part of the brindle was unwilling to move from his spot and catch up on what it was he had missed later on, but it was quickly decided that that was a horrible idea. He owed his Empress his presence, no matter how hideous, so that he may listen to what it was she had to announce with his own ears. A sharp exhale was given; here went nothing.

"Nonnie," came a soft nickering from the Weaver, as he coaxed his young daughter out of her restful state further back in the cave, "Did you hear that? That is our lady Psyche calling for us." He awaited the filly to get to her feet, cocking an ear back for the best judgement. "Why don't we turn this into a bit of a training exercise, huh? I want to see if you can lead me there, but make sure I don't run into anything. It's practice for making sure you're always aware of your surroundings." Of course, this was somewhat of a lie, but hopefully it would benefit Rhiannon in one way or another.

Off they went, with Talbot sticking close to his master's side, fearful of what else might come of him. A soft whine emitted from his throat, but he was quickly silenced by an annoyed, sightless glare from Crowley. Each step that the Weaver took caused him terrible pain, and despite his best abilities to try and hide it from Rhiannon or anyone else who might be looking upon him, his face wrenched with pain every now and then, or when he would step wrong and nearly tumble into the snow.

But eventually, and with tremendous effort, the trio had all made it there and Crowley halted himself in what he hoped was the back of the crowd. Despite his wounded pride and his sightless eyes, the brindle kept his head held up high and where he could only guess the Dark Empress was standing. He had heard of the scrap between her and the Resolute, and upon finding that she had won, a swelling of pride welled in his broad chest. It would only make sense that Psyche would emerge victorious when paired against a lousy excuse of animal such as Kri was. Yet the threat of an attack seemed to be looming over their heads, which wasn't too much of surprise considering the recent deeds of some of the Basin's members. While the Basin was large in numbers, they surely could not take on the forces of both the Dragon's Throat and the World's Edge.

After a silence had fallen over the group and the Empress had asked for any to step forward, Crowley drew in a deep breath and remained in his spot, but lifted his voice into the frigid air. "As for winter, I am available to make blankets for those who might need them," he said, uncertain if there would be the need, but put it out regardless. "In the case of the Dragon's Throat, however... Have we sent any prying ears near their borders to learn more? Perhaps somebody with magic to do so more safely?" The thought of a single hornless coming into their home again caused the brindle to scoff, and he shook his head. "Perhaps our General could just surround us in a barrier of death upon those who wrongly enter."

[ooc - For those curious, Crowley is cursed by the Moon Goddess. >__> Also, I give permission to Sparrow to play Talbot in her posts if she so wishes.]