Arah's attempts to curb her barbed tongue were simply ignored, but brought into light a fact about the antlered mare that Illynx had not previously been assured of; this one was not like her brothers and sisters, the truly proud beasts of the Basin. She was soft hearted, and she was weak. It did not mean that she would receive disrespect from the corporal, however, who found her presence acceptable for the singular fact that she had chosen the right home. It rarely crossed the golden marked mare's mind that her perspectives on life were rather skewed and unbalanced, that if Arah had belonged to another herd how differently this situation would be playing out. Of all the things that Illynx was, intelligent was not always one of them, this very moment in time proving that while she could hold her own in a battle, she often overestimated her skills and underestimated the wrath of who ever she was taunting. She also rarely thought before she spoke; something that she knew she had to work on, but for some reason was unable to control at this point.

The sharp glare of the wolf-being and the equally hostile aura emanating from the dragon were nearly palpable in their distaste of the chocolate unicorn, and while it did not go unnoticed by the corporal, it would certainly seem so to those around her by the smug smile that never faded, not once, even as the hound answered her questions with blade in cheek. A bright, illuminated giggle ruptured from her as he jabbed at her current and future lack of companionship, the mare delightfully amused by the wolf's attempt to turn her own words against her. Despite his hideous disfigurements, she found him all the more entertaining with every movement and response given to her, and that it was hard for her to truly dislike one who could absorb every dagger she hurled with a proud defiance. "If I desired to have such a thing, I would have one. I find them...distracting. But another weak link to shatter," replied the gilded warrior, "If your friend was to die, you would as well. And even if you managed to survive the loss, you would be but half of a man. Good for nothing but a bit of meat to those you might call kin." It was a fact (or fact within her own mind) she held against even her own brothers and sisters who had bonded with the various wildlife of the realm; it marked one as weak. It was not to say that the death of her dearest friends would not be devastating, but there was a difference between losing a friend and losing a part of your soul, the most definitive being that few died of broken hearts after a herd mate died, but many if not all died with their companions. This wolf was no different, the rapidly beating heart of the black dragon tied so acutely to his own moving parts that the death of one would bring the end to the other, as it was with all who committed themselves to the defense and love of a single creature.

Illynx loved only herself.

Slowly her head turned as she finished speaking to rest her golden eyes upon a figure that approached them. She smiled in recognition of Roland, remembering him from her days within the Edge, the chestnut stallion rather kind and courteous from what she could recall. She was not sure of his disposition on hornless, but judging by the nonchalant motions of the chestnut and his ease of approach upon such a monster as the wolf-horse led her to believe that he was perhaps not as unkind as herself. His arrival, however, did bolster her confidence, the trio of Basin unicorns providing a shield of sorts; even if the wolf was a mercenary and rather skilled, Illynx knew that three unicorns versus a single being and his dragon was daunting to even the most proud of warriors. From his reactions thus far and that of her herd-mates, however, she assumed that there would be no battle between the gathered personas, merely her own zealous tongue waggling in the wind, ruffling fur that did not necessarily have to be taunted for any reason other than, well, she wanted to. The sound of her name pulls her eyes away from the red stallion's approach and back to the hound, the words that followed bringing to mind a new trail of thoughts.

The Grey, she reiterated in her mind, remembering some word of a lose alliance between the band of hooves for hire and that of her own dearly loved Basin. Her eyes widened, a small ember of disgust rising in her chest. Psyche...you are damn fool. That her proud kin had fallen so far in her disappearance as to rely on filth like the beast before her made her sick, made her wish to gallop head long home and throw her heightened sense of betrayal in the face of her Lady, though she knew that the contract was necessary in the face of all that had transpired in the past year. "Fortuitous, truly," she crooned, the sarcasm heavy and dripping upon each syllable as Roland arrived upon the group.

"Only difficulties of the mind, Roland," she mused, her head nodding in greeting to him as her golden orbs turned to look upon his face. It was true, as well; the mare was aware that others were likely to accept the hound as what he was, looking within his soul for his value, rather than his physical detriments. But all she saw were those sharpened teeth, the paws where there should have been hooves, and the undeniable fact (the one that could have made her set aside her disgust at his... dog face) that there was no horn upon his features made it nearly impossible for her to tolerate kindness towards the wolf on the beach.

As the wyvern was given a name, she stored it alongside that of Osiris for safe keeping. It was likely that she may come to regret her ruthless tongue and half-wit reactions when it came time of the contract between the Grey and the Basin to come into play, but for now she was simply amused by the sheer oddness of the mercenary who stoically endured her hurtful jests. "It would seem that Helovia has decided to punish my return by introducing me to her more... unique citizens."