Amber orbs traced over the lines of the steed's body, unable to make out minute details in the low light. What she could tell was that he was bi-colored, ebony and ivory intermingled in sporadic splotches across his pelt. He stood only slightly taller than she herself, though he was much bigger boned. Feathering adorned his large feet, matching the rather thick tresses that decorated his nape and rump. The silver along his markings and mixed into the hair along his legs seemed to glow in the luminescence of the light-tree. Most importantly, a long, dark horn protruded from his brow, proclaiming his lineage. Judging from his prize and his size, he seemed a formidable opponent, though she had never been one to judge appearances.

The shadow-mare listened to his explanation in a cool silence that betrayed no hint of emotion. He chose his words carefully, but he did not reach far for them; he was not lying. He paused, following the story, and still the Empress stood in silence, her lips pursed thoughtfully as she looked first at him, and then to the wing. It was pulled and prodded into the space between them, and yet still the Lady stood in silence. It was a marvel, really, to send a skyrat into such a panic that this was the result. She had never known one to tear their own wing off, but there were stranger things happening in the world. A quick glance to the sunless sky reminded her of that.

"Her name was Africa," he adds, a though to fill the silence, and the orange gaze that had discomfited many over the years returned to him. He did not show remorse; that was good. "Was," the shade repeated slowly. "Am I to assume that this means that she is no longer alive?" For the most part, she couldn't care less, but a small part of her wanted the answer to confirm the death, for what use is a warrior to her if they couldn't finish what they started? But no matter. "I suppose that your summons means that you are showing your allegiance to my beliefs?"

If he had come for praise, she would not give it to him; she was not one to give her subjects a pat on the head and a bone and send them on their merry way like grovelling dogs. But if he had come to be a part of something more, she would assist him. Recruitment into her organization had fallen, after all, and she relinquished the opportunity to expand. Again she left him in silence, slightly raised brows the only indication that she awaited a response. Perhaps she was not in a giving mood; perhaps the absence of normalcy had simply left her distracted. Either way, she was not going to make his ascension into the Plague an easy task.

@[Crash Course]
"Talk talk talk."