The darkness was suffocating, but it had been that way for days on end. Or so she thought. In all honesty, the shadow-mare had lost track of time without the path of the sun to guide her, and she suspected that many others felt the same. She had adjusted as well as may be, of course, for it had been imperative that she do so. If she could survive, then she could assist her herd. And so she wandered among them, giving tips here and there for how to survive. It had become bitterly cold in the reaches of the northlands, for they did not have the sun to warm their days. Instead, the endless night blanketed them in layer after layer of snow and ice, and eventually the main source of heat in the Aurora Basin was the hot spring. Even the aurora borealis for which they valley was named had been unusually absent, leaving them with only infrequent, eerily glowing trees to light their way.

She had taken to suggesting that they group by the springs. It was a bit colder, of course, to be in the open, what with the frigid wind that passed through the mountains, but the hot springs radiated a bit of heat, and in this particular season, a bit of heat could make all the difference. She herself had tried to find warmth elsewhere, but the caves were all hard icy walls and dampness, and she was afraid that should they group there, they would all catch pneumonia and die. And so they huddled, day in and day out (or so they assumed) before the springs, none of them chancing a dip for fear of freezing when they emerged. Instead, she, along with her harem, tried to enjoy what little warmth the springs gave off before it was whisked away by the mountain chill.

The DarkEmpress found herself caught up in thinking more often than not, for none of them particularly felt like talking. As soon as she opened her mouth, her teeth began to chatter despite the thick layers she had put on since assuming leadership of the Basin. Though the rest of the world also suffered through the blackness, she feared that they in the north bore the worst of it, and it was this more than anything that scared her. They had enemies, too many to ignore, and it would be the perfect time for an invasion. The dark would disguise their approach; the snow would muffle their hoofbeats. She could not seem to shake the feeling that she was being watched, could not escape the notion that at any moment, they might find themselves under attack. The only thing that calmed her was that to get to the Basin, any would-be army would have to pass through the unprotected Steppe. At least here, they had the mountains to break the wind; out there, it was all piles of snow and frigid gusts. Yes, they were safe, for now, though she warned them all against traveling outside the mountains.

She walked now around the grouping of her herd, much closer than she might normally be to conserve warmth. Each time she reached the edge of the spring, she turned to stalk in the other direction. Amber gaze roved restlessly against the darkness, trying to pick out shapes that didn't exist. She was simply a shadow, the darkness of her pelt blending with the shadows, the ivory adornments on her legs invisible save for the scant lighting from the glow-trees. She could almost be someone else entirely, if not for the way she held herself, for despite her anxiety, she still pulled herself up regally, still watched the land with a look of scorn on her face. Let them come, the shadows; or, rather, let them try.

[OOC | Open to any for some Psyche bonding time! Just try to post only if you'll be able to respond fairly quickly ;)]

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

The darkness was unrelenting, the golden marked corporal finding it harder as each day passed in the inky black to keep track of the amount of time it had been since the orb last gave it's light to the cold peak of the mountain. Cold was perhaps an understatement; the mare waded through a thick drift of snow, the lack of heat allowing for only further accumulation of the white stuff as it was blown about by the winds, the only passage of anything in Illynx's mind that could be counted aside from the number of times she had beaten her way back out of her cave since night had fallen, never to rise. Even the moon was gone, her jovial, round face no longer lighting the dark sky, and with only stars loitering about it's face the mare found Helovia to be most melancholy. It was common for the black maned temptress to chide herself for laughing inwardly at Crowley's offering of blankets for those who needed them; if the chill was to persist at this level, she may soon be asking for a cover herself, something that she felt rather sheepishly embarrassed by. What sort of warrior cringed from the cold, even one as unnatural as this?

A bustle of movement drew her eyes towards the edge of the spring, where a proud midnight silhouette paced along the shore with the jittery, stiff movements of agitation. The mare lifted her ears to catch the sounds of the hooves buffeting the warmed soil around the shoreline, her dark muzzle breathing in deep the smell of Psyche, a spark of curious worry igniting upon the recognition within Illynx's gilded stare. Her path adjusted and she made her way towards the black figure of her queen, the snow lessening in depth the closer she came to the fount of warmth around which the feather laden Lady of the Basin drained her frustrations upon the earth beneath her hooves. Many of the other members of the herd, less stubbornly ignoring the drastic nature of the cold that had swept their home than Illynx, who still attempted to persevere in her usual cave, lingered around the edges of the broiling water, their figures becoming clearer as she drew near, but it was Psyche alone that her company was to be freely given to on this evening.

"Psyche, love," she called as she came within earshot, her voice a croon that pierced the cold air with it's vibrance, "you'll draw a sweat and catch your death in the chill, if you do not cease." Her face was creased with soft lines of worry, an expression not often caught upon the visage of the corporal, but despite her best attempts to remain aloof of all other life, she found the pull to care for the ebony mare beyond her strength to resist. She could understand entirely what drove her friend to this near deranged pacing, however, she herself keeping an extra alert eye upon the comings and goings of the Basin, but the level to which Psyche must worry about their safety made the paltry concerns of a swollen-headed soldier seem rather small. If the children were to drop dead of cold, it would not be Illynx they pointed fingers at, but Psyche, and though the golden corporal found pointing fingers over something obviously caused by nature was quite out of line, she could not speak for any of her herd-mates. The chocolate mare came to a halt within her queen's line of movement, in hopes to divert the manic pacing of the worried woman and lure her into a conversation. "You can help none of us if you are dead or dying, dearest."

The gold-laced corporal would not be the first to complain of the bitter cold, though it was less for warmth and more for anxiety that the shadow-mare paced. She had not stopped to think that perhaps her actions would be regarded with worry; she had tried to keep a brave face on (for truly, she was not afraid) for her herd, tried to hide her stress under a mask of restlessness. It would seem that this, too, was cause for concern, though the notion struck her as odd. If she would pace, let her pace; if she would explore, let her explore. She simply did not want to be left alone to her thoughts, did not want to be rendered useless. There was more out there in the blackness, of that she was certain, and she would be ready when it came, as much for the wellbeing of the herd as for the continuation of her growing organization.

The Plague was not thriving, not in the way it had the year before. They had grown, to be sure, but they had not prospered. They were no closer to a takeover than they have been then, no closer to the world domination that she so clearly envisioned. She was no closer to fulfilling her personal goals against the lessers, nor to exacting revenge on her imperfect family. In short, she had done nothing. She had been so busy trying to earn the respect of those she called her family that she had lost sight of her true goals. She had not recruited, save a few that happened to stumble upon her; she had not called her followers to heel, had not given them orders. There was much left undone, had she only opened her eyes to see it.

Well, she was no weakling; she was no soft idealist with no brawn behind her brave words. No, she was the Dark Empress, the Crux of the Plague, and she would hold the key to the realm.

There really was no other option.

And so she paced.

The voice of her trusted advisor brought a halt to her hooves, but not to her eyes; she continued to scan the landscape. Flicking an aud to acknowledge the fae's arrival, she shook her head. "I have caught neither death nor chill so far in this lifetime, and I have no intention of that changing, darling. Don't fret." The words were reassuring, in that sickly sweet way that she had, though a bit distracted. She was silent for a moment, gazing into the black, picking out each glow-tree that dotted her landscape. And then: "The darkness may fade, or it may not, but we'd best be prepared either way, hmm?" Not to mention the gods-cursed cold.

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

As her queen finally halted the mad to and fro of her bodice, Illynx watched the large, misty plumes emanating from her nostrils with eyes that wondered if maybe Psyche did not have the right idea, after all. A shiver ran its way up one of the corporal's shoulders. despite her attempts to suppress it, while the ebonite Empress stood tall and regal, not a trace of chill upon her, though Illynx noticed also the thickness of her pelt, earned from the amount of time she spent here in the mountains, tending to her flock. Not that many of them really needed tending of the the typical sense, as most of the unicorns of the Basin seemed to be rather self sufficient to the point of being hermetic, especially her brothers and sisters of the Plague, and most exclusively the handful of advisers and the Lady and Lord themselves needed absolutely no care made for them. And so why was Illynx here, fretting her pretty little head over the broiling thoughts of Psyche, who surely, of all the unicorns of the mountain, needed her less than anyone else?

The corporal found her reasons bi-fold, the first being simply that of all of Helovia and the realms known beyond, before her stood the only being she would willingly bleed for aside from herself. Not Mauja, not handsome Déodat, and not melancholy Ares, but Psyche, the woman who had lost nearly as much as she had in her life and still rose from the ashes, their bodies ablaze and writhing for reprisal of that which the world had taken from them. Together, along with the others of the organization, they even attempted to right the wrongs done upon them by history itself, an event that had been out of the teeth long before any of them were born, even Myrddin (a smile found it's place upon her now as she mused as to the elderly Haruspex's true age).

All the while as she thought she listened with an aud raised to the words of Psyche, her mind, as usual, a tumble of thoughts and ruminations about life, her surroundings, and the conversation at hand. It would seem the situation had not bettered for her people since their last meeting within her den, the night of her arrival to Helovia, but worsened, and the lack of solidity behind all the chaos made Illynx uneasy within herself; she did not doubt her own strength, nor did she that of Psyche or the others of the Plague. It was the others, the grey minded, the white minded, the faces ringed around the springs that did not have hearts like hers, spineless fish in a world of sharks. "It will fade or we will all starve," she mused, golden orbs running across the inky black dome above them, knowing that only certain vegetation could flourish in moonlight and not enough to support the populace of Helovia, "either way I will no longer be so cold. I will grateful." Her smile was cheeky and humorous as she returned her eyes to the watchful Psyche, who observed the pitch black ring of the Basin with a gaze that expected anything from a pine cone to a hundred wolves to roll out of the forest at any moment; Illynx didn't worry so much about this. She knew it was damnably cold at the foot of the mountain, as well, and that their enemies were shivering in their steadfast positions just as they were up here, and certainly would not be venturing any further north than was necessary at this time, their homes not providing for the thick winter attire that those of the Basin gained while living in one of the most chilly locations in Helovia. And, even if they were truly wolves, how long would they last against a herd of this size with such a vast collection of blooded unicorns?

"We will not starve," she said sharply, her gaze torn from her surroundings to look at her corporal cooly. "I will not allow it." It was not something said to calm tensions, it was not a lie told to the masses to induce calm. It was, quite simply, the Lady's version of the truth, for in all honesty she thought herself more than capable of delivering on that promise. It spoke volumes of some misplaced trust in the gods - not in what they would do for her, or for her harem, but a trust in their very presence in the world. That this belief was currently in question was beside the point; still she believed, as so many others believed. They were not alone. They were not deserted. The sun would rise again, and when it did, they would survive once more without question.

Until then, it was not the normal dangers that she feared. It was not the wolves, it was not the Dragon's Throat, it was not any other enemies she might have made over her time in Helovia. It was the monsters that only came out at night, the creatures normally chased away by the sun. Where were they when the sun and the moon and the earth itself were elsewhere? They were out and about, wandering, looking for a soul to steal here and a foal to eat there. Perhaps an adult death would be forgivable, but should one of their children be taken, she would bear the brunt of the grief.

"We will not starve, but there is much that can still happen, my sister," she sighed, her gaze moving once more into the night. She lowered her voice, and then: "How do I protect them against something I do not know?"

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

The humor that Illynx had intended to inject into their rather dark predicament was responded to with a sharpness that only her dearest friend could pull off so elegantly, the keen edge to her words as she rebutted the notion of a single one of them starving broadening the smile that already lingered on the corporal's lips. She had no faith in the gods anymore beyond that of their undeniable power, unlike her Lady, the golden marked mare having felt their lack of concern for the mortal plight on one too many occasions to believe any longer that the immortals of the world cared anything at all for the squalor moving about on its surface. To Illynx, the unicorns and hornless of the world, the creepy crawlies and fowl, all those in between, were simply toys used for a game that their short lived minds could not understand; the only reason there was ever intervention in mortal lives by divine influence, as she had observed so far, was when a toy was broken and burned without their say so, or when the pawn had invented a game more amusing than what the divine beings had previously planned. Perhaps they would mend whatever wound ailed Helovia, but those that died in their absence would surely not be missed by the creators; there was simply no purpose to weeping over a fleeting speck of life in the long, endless strands of their own existence.

Still, Illynx did have faith in the leaders of the Basin to provide until there were no provisions to give. But what if the light never returned? Psyche could promise her only what she herself could give, and while the chocolate woman wanted to feel assured by her oldest friend's words, she found that the truth over wrote all of her emotionally laden interjections; only time would tell whether or not they would starve or not, and no amount of words shared between two women in the midst of a blackened world could change that. Illynx also knew the trinket baring mare before her well enough to understand that it was best to let her logical argument die within the confines of her brain, and so she was glad when the whispered words of the Empress met her ears and drove a new chain of thought into her head.

Her golden eyes followed Psyche's back out into the darkness, her ears alert and muzzle unleashing twin plumes of frozen air as she breathed deep upon the wind. So Psyche did not fear the hornless taking advantage of their plight, but rather the land itself, and the powerful secrets that it kept hidden. She wished now that her queen had never mentioned it at all to her; a menagerie of horrible monsters suddenly came to mind, each one exceedingly more grotesque than the next, and the question itself of how to deal with the unknown was almost as daunting as the thought of having to battle one of her imagined terrors. "You cannot know until they come," resolutely stated the corporal, her warrior's brain observing the perplex problem and coming to as simple a solution as she could, and though she had never been very good at refining her ideas to be easily understood by those she tried to share them with, she attempted so now. "It will be much like facing a new opponent for the first time. You cannot know how they will chose to attack, the strength of their bodies or the power of their will, but one must adapt or lose." Her head was raised proudly, a toss of her darkened muzzle throwing a chunk of her forelock out of her vision as she continued to scan the bleak and black horizon.

For a time, the shadow-mare had forgotten what it could be like to trust another to know the right thing to say and to be around to say it. She had left Helovia, running from her own perception of weakness. She had been alone in the world then, particularly when her own daughter had deserted her, and had returned to the land from which she had fled with a wall around her heart. She would not fear her own emotions, not anymore, for she would not have them. The shade had been wrong, of course, as so many are when they attempt to control their feelings in such a way

Mauja had surprised her, because he had welcomed her home so readily, had forgiven her for her transgressions so quickly. The invasion had, perhaps, left him with little choice, but one must take advantage of the situation in which they find themselves. She had surprised herself, too, by admitting first that she considered him a friend, and again by recognizing that perhaps she cared too much for the Ice King, though she had failed to say as much. Where was he now, she wondered? He had departed at the onset of her battle with Kri, and she had not seen him since. Was he alive? Was he well? Would he ever return? She worried for him, alone in the endless night, and she worried for their herd, for many considered him their leader instead of the Empress.

Illynx did not. The corporal remained steadfastly loyal despite their long separation, and she found herself grateful. Perhaps the golden-laced femme recognized a difference in the way the jackal treated her, but if she did, she said nothing. Instead, here she stood, offering quiet reassurances to her leader, attempting to jest about the unfortunate situation despite the Lady's inability to recognize such a joke. "Perhaps," she agreed in response to Illynx's logic. Finally, a sigh. And then: "We shall adapt, of course. What other option do we have?" A pause, and then a shake of the head. She turned to her friend and nudged her gently on the shoulder, a gesture of thanks. "How are you settling in, darling? Is the Basin to your liking?"

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

Her friend and queen was as thoughtful as she was, observed Illynx, the tender creases in the black flesh of Psyche's face leading the eyes on a trail of visible emotion, though the Lady of the Basin was rather skilled at shielding precisely what she pondered in comparison to Illynx, if the corporal was to be the judge. She assumed it was simply differences in character, the chocolate minx dis-concerned with the judgement or emotions of others. But did that mean that Psyche sought approval from those around her with more intensity than Illynx? It was a curious thought, the golden horned unicorn having always assumed Psyche to be above the inner struggles of finding a place in the world, the feather strewn mare regent over a herd of nearly fifty faces and having held similar esteem through most of what Illynx could recall. The anxiety etched into the ebony Lady's sinew only deepened her thought that perhaps Psyche was not an impenetrable wall as she had always viewed her to be, that perhaps the weight of her crown had begun to make the bricks sway and sag, and it made the concern within the golden marked mare's chest extend further than it had initially. And, another concern all together; that while she cared for her leader and friend, she knew very little of her, but that they both were indisputably beautiful and fierce of heart, and that the Lady Psyche was one to be respected and admired for her intelligence as well as her ferocious temper, Illynx having always viewed the black unicorn as a sister more thoroughly than any of the others who had crossed her path.

A sister, but also a shadow; Illynx wondered if she herself was as illusive to those in her life, if the cold mask she had worn behind her smile all her life had made her as untouchable as she sometimes felt her dearest friend to be. Was that why she was always alone? She wondered if Psyche was as solitary as she herself was, but then dismissed the notion; there were too many here who depended upon her for the Lady to be alone much at all.

The darkness amplified noises, she noticed, as Psyche's voice broke the temporary silence between the mare's statements, the air eerily windless and still but for the familiar tones of her friend and the rustling and mutterings of the herd gathered about the broiling water. The corporal wasn't quite sure what to say in response to the question, finding it rhetorical and remaining silent until she felt a nudge on her shoulder, the vibrancy in Psyche's voice more normal than it had been since the beginning of their conversation. Illynx's golden eyes swung about to look upon the black mare, a smile laced upon her lips. "Quite so, though I don't think I will ever manage to meet all of our herd," a giggle trailed from her, breathy and girlish, her head bemusedly bobbing to and fro in mock disbelief, "how have we managed to attain such numbers, my sister? Every day I still see faces I have not seen before." And she had placed names to many others, as well, and with so many she did not know it made it rather difficult to venture out of her cave some days when she awoke feeling particularly aggressive or desiring to be surrounded with anything other than strangers. "I can't say I'm helping myself keep caught up much. I've returned with several new recruits myself. Speaking of which -" her smile grew devious as she curved her head towards Psyche and lowered her voice so as not to be heard by those around them, not particularly keen on instilling more fear into the hearts of her kin within earshot unless it was deemed necessary by the Lady herself, "do you know of these 'Assassins' within the Arch? I encountered one while at the Threshold."

To those who knew the shadow-mare prior to her departure and subsequent return to Helovia, it may have come as a surprise that she was capable of any emotion at all save malicious greed; it would be even more astonishing to realize that she could actually care for any other than herself. That she stalked the boundaries of her herd, that the lines of her face were etched with worry, that her mind was overcome with plans to keep them safe - all of these attributes had been nonexistent prior to her realization that Helovia might just be her home. Ah, and what a home it was! Or, at least, what a land it used to be. The gods had taken their light with them, leaving the realm bathed in darkness. How long could it hold up against the relentless onslaught of abnormality?

But her corporal had pulled her from the depths of despair, and she had realized once more that there was indeed a light at the end of the tunnel. After all, what would be stupid enough to travel this far north in a Frostfall without a sun? What predators could possibly be moving around out there? Besides, inside their mountainous home, they reigned supreme. Enemies must pass through a single entrance, and would be easy to defend against. Unless they flew in, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind; she glanced distractedly to the sky, and then returned her amber eyes to Illynx. No, she could not focus on the negative; that would do her no good. She must be proactive in this trying time; she must continue to lead her herd to glory, despite the fact that they had been forsaken. The gods were of no use to her, anyway; she did not need them to accomplish her goals. Perhaps Helovia would be better off without them.

The corporal's admission was met with a smile and a soft chuckle, for her words were true; the herd had grown and continued to grow since their arrival in the valley, all thanks to an almost religious dedication to recruitment. "My darlings have done well, haven't they?" she mused aloud. "We are stronger than we have ever been, my dear, but they do not all believe as we do. It will take more before we can prove truly successful in our endeavors." It is said neither sadly or angrily, but as a simple statement of fact. There is a moment of quiet, and then a new question, one that piques the Lady's interest. The Assassins. She snorted, amused. "Ha! Their leader... I don't even remember her name, dear one, but she came to visit ages ago. She wanted our support to take the Edge. Let it suffice to say that I have not heard word of them since. Do they really think they can do it?"

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

A solemn nod was given to Psyche at her mention of the lack of kin spirits among the horned inhabitants of the Basin, Illynx having learned all to well that while the group at the top of the mountain was surely the most beautiful to observe in all the land, it also was not unified on the front that she herself found most important; the preservation and exaltation of their species, the subsequent extermination or enslavement of all those who did not wear a horn upon their brow. She herself would not mind every dual embellished being was wiped from the earth, either, the beasts wearing both horn and wing frighteningly atrocious in their defiance of the natural order of things. Why else were they each born separately, every species a single image of the three faced Gods who birthed them, if it was not to continue their lines along this path? To blend them seemed almost blasphemous, an attempt to reach the status of a creator, and to the corporal, it was most offensive, no matter her ambiguous feelings pertaining to the divines of her home, and she knew without question that her dearest friend would help her wipe their smut from the earth.

It would take quite some time between just the two of them, she mused, a devious smile playing out upon her lips as she thought of the power that the two women held when they worked in unison; but even her pride could not change the hard, bitter fact that there were simply too many maggots already hatched and crawling across the land for even these two to defeat alone, Illynx too aware that with every turn of her head outside of the comfortable confines of the Basin, a hornless face loomed. "I seek out their hearts as I meet them," she somberly stated, the wicked grin having faded from her lips at the beginning of her words, "but we are few in our thoughts, sister; the very land itself works against us, our three-faced Gods and the surplus of mixed blood herds leading to thoughts of equality; the acceptance of hybrids," she spat the word out as if it was a rather rancid tasting insect that had invaded her mouth while she spoke, continuing with the horrendous image of Osiris embedded within the back of her mind, "the young seem to be malleable enough to convince differently, however the grown and set upon their ways are rather... adamant fools."

Her reply to the Lady's words were of little help, the only insight into the betterment of their cause being that the Basin simply had to start birthing foals in mass quantities to train for their armies, leaving them vulnerable while her females were swollen with foal, almost negating the value of such a theory. The only other options available to her mind at hand were to continue on course as they were now, hoping that with every venture south a new fruit would be born upon their limbs, or to provide a better incentive than bettering your species (one she could not begin to imagine). It was then that Psyche's snort of humorous disdain at the mention of the Assassin's drew the golden marked mare back out of her thoughts, her smile in response to Psyche's words cruel and mocking. "They cannot even successfully earn new members, as the lady the stallion I encountered was attempting to coax out into the ice fields now resides within the Basin," she sneered, inwardly pleased with herself from having sniffed out a band of thieves within moments of meeting Tonka, "thus I do not imagine they could win a war, especially not against the DragonHeart and her kin. Despite their filthy breeding, they are formidable opponents; you and I have learned this the hard way." Her smile softened as she looked proudly upon her friend, finding her decisions in leadership to be exceedingly more pleasing with every passing day. "You were very wise to deny them aid, dearest; we have our own revenge to exact, without the hindrance of those who cannot earn homes for themselves."

Adamant fools they were, the lot of them, stubbornly insisting upon the equality of those lesser than they even when presented with the facts: the crown upon their brows, nature’s way of placing them above the rest; the long and noble history of the unicorn race, in which they were always regarded most highly; the size of the unicorn herd which had tucked itself away in the bowels of the mountains, the largest in the land of Helovia by far. These, among other reasons, left the shadow-mare with an irritable sort of bemusement, for it was obvious to her that the path that she had been set upon since birth was indeed the correct road to follow. How could those who claimed her heritage not see it?

Never mind that she, unmarked and plain, had dominated only the lowest ranks of the Crimson King’s armies. What a disappointment she must have been, though she tried so hard to follow his ways. Did she care about her father’s opinions? Perhaps, perhaps not – that had always been a secret held close to her heart, never spoken aloud. Whether or not she yearned for his approval, she was almost sure that she would not have gained it, if he could see her now, resting her boring rump on the highest mountain she could find, lording over a kingdom hardly fit for his hoof, never to achieve more. No, she told herself. You must not think that way. Your day will come.

And so it would, one day, but that day seemed ever so far away just then.

Particularly when one took into account their atrocious lack of new membership. Perhaps Illynx had the right of it, and they would grow only when supported by the fruit of their own loins. The jackal had no interest in foals, particularly after her first had gone so horribly wrong, and Snö’s father had been the only steed with whom she could envision a child. She resisted the sudden urge to grimace at the thought. Another child with the FrostHeart, with whom she had only just returned to good terms? Excellent terms, even, if one considered their recent lover’s tryst – could one call it that? She could not be sure – in the Frozen Arch. No, a foal was out of the question for her, and she could hardly require it of her harem.

The talk turned to the Assassins; the Empress was grateful, for it took her mind off the Ice King and their future children (which, naturally, she would refuse to have). ”Of course, darling, aiding a lost cause is not a habit of mine,” she agreed with a high, cold, tinkling sort of laugh. No, she had little sympathy for the ragtag band of outcasts. She had been in their position, hadn’t she? She had led her herd to safety, been guided by a particularly interested god. She had earned it, and she wasn’t about to fight the Assassins’ battles for them. ”There are more ways than banding together with that lot to bring down the skyrats, after all. All we have to do is find it.”

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

Illynx, too, felt more at ease discussing politics, feeling that the clarity of each notion was so vibrantly in tune between the pair of women, the nuances that would need be stated in other company easily skipped over, understood without being spoken. From Psyche, there was no rebuke to the drastic and cruel ideas of the corporal, no disdain upon her features as the snide little wench that was Illynx condemned so many innocents to death, or to a life of suffering, as was the case with the Assassins. Never once had the decadent warrior felt disgust or coldness from her friend, at least not beyond the frigid state of her persona; she expected no miracles from the Empress, only her friendship, and so fluid and intangible was her companionship, ever present it seemed in the dark tinted jar of Illynx's world.

If not for this woman, she thought, golden eyes tinkling and her lips curving into a sweet and faintly sad smile at the glimmer that bloomed behind Psyche's eyes, I would have forever been alone. It was perhaps true; her life before the Plague had been dismal, a trail of tragedies that had broken her soul into so many shining, sharp pieces. It had taken this mare, this proud river of a being, to show her that the state of her soul was valuable, that her heart, while broken, was capable of tearing paths through stone just as Psyche herself did. Perhaps I might have died, wouldn't that have amused them? The others, the herd that she had been born to that had let her parents be murdered like dogs and had outcasted her for what her family had believed in. The irony that Illynx might have been saved, that Helovia would be one less black hearted murderer had they forgiven her for her father's sins, was surely more amusing to think of than the revelry they would have felt had she decided to cease trying to live. Let them eat their own hearts. No. Let them be force fed each others hearts, still pumping blood into air while their eyes roll in terror.

Perhaps that was why she loved Psyche so much; surely the ebony unicorn would delight in such a spectacle.

The Dark Empress' chiming laughter fell into place at the precisely perfect moment in the reverie, just as the life faded from the face of one of the more cruel in their antics, his sister's blood dripping down his horror stricken and lifeless mask. The delicate face of the corporal bobbed in accordance to the Lady's words, her eyes twinkling mischievously in the dim light provided by the Haruspex and the other magical sources about the Basin, silence falling between the pair of bitter and hate filled women. "Fools have uses, however," she began, sweetly feminine voice soft and slow, her thoughts trailing along with her words; perhaps they were not worth bothering to assist in their struggles, but if the Assassins were desperate to obtain a herd land, the proper tugs on the strings of their emotions would allow the Plague to manipulate their ranks to their own devilish whims, "but only if they are desperate; only if we are given the proper... leverage, so to speak, on a situation. But it is all only a house of leaves, frail and quick to collapse with the wrong wind." She trailed off, her lips forming a pouting and thoughtful line, eyebrows folding down towards her eyes, aware that such strategies relied entirely too much on circumstances playing out in their favor. Unless they had some means to control the outcast band should they realize they were being utilized as pawns in a greater game, it was too risky; even if the Assassins were truly less talented overall than the Plague's warriors, she knew that many in the Basin would not defend the racists from the hammer they had brought down upon themselves. "We need more soldiers, sister, more implants residing among the enemy. A spider is nothing without her web."

Love was a strange notion, it was true, and for one so unused to its company as the Dark Empress, it was difficult to tell the difference between its many rises and dips, the nuances that created love, and lust, and friendship, all one and the same, and yet so vastly different. And so as she gazed upon her longtime friend - though it was with a certain hesitance that they shade admitted even to that - she was unsure of the warmth that blossomed in her breast. Still, her affections for Mauja had taught her, if nothing else, that love, no matter the kind, was not a weak bond; no, if anything, it was the strongest of all. Perhaps, then, one would think that the Lady of the Basin would strive harder for love; but it was not in her nature, and so she only basked in what she already had, not understanding the drive to gain more.

But there was a certain understanding that the two femmes had of one another, a mutual agreement of so many things left unspoken not out of necessity, but out of lack of a need to discuss them further. Even the FrostHeart, as changed as he was by his ordeal, did not understand her basest imaginings, not as the corporal did, and so the kinship she felt with the golden-laced mare was even more pronounced, more defined, that her relationship with the once-king. Would she have it any other way, if given the choice? Whatever semblance of love she shared with Mauja required work, and effort, and a certain level of dedication - not in the form of romanticized loyalty, perhaps, but a kind of unyielding attempt to rid their bond of the awkward antics of youth. But Illynx was easy to care for, easy to like, easy to get on with. She did not have to justify herself, did not have to sell her beliefs, for Illynx was preprogrammed, as she was, to declare herself higher than all the rest.

Perhaps it is this similarity that, rather than pushing the pair to a mutual, hatred-driven competition, pulled them closer together. The jackal, however, would never know the true nature of their relationship, for she did not allow herself to delve very far into such immaterial reveries. The corporal spoke, her lips flattening into a pout, and the Lady shook her head slightly. "Useful... or dangerous. With the right leverage, as you say, perhaps... but without it, disastrous..." She trailed off thoughtfully, amber gaze once more roving the darkness beyond. Her words did not require explanation, for they only reiterated what Illynx herself had said. "Soldiers we may need, but are there soldiers to be had?" she continued to muse, her own lips pursing in concentration.

The Assassins, she had to admit, were a ragtag band of filth, at best. Could they be bought? They could be persuaded to work with - or, rather, for - the Basin. Everyone had a price, after all. But would they prove useful? Or would their efforts prove just as fruitless as they had previously? "Is it worth it, darling? Could they do anything we could not do alone? The time is not right to strike, and yet..." Again, her vocals slipped into nonexistence. Illynx spoke fairly, for they did need more than what they had - but whatever would any mercenaries be used for, in such times of forced peace?

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."

In all the years Illynx had known Psyche, nothing about the mare had changed much at all until she had gained the rights of leadership. The woman was still cunning, dangerous; but the corporal knew also that the wild, careless friend she had once known was now buried beneath the weight of fifty unicorns, and while she could justify the change, it still did not please her. Doubt was unbecoming of her ebonite companion, this was certain, and while the evidence said they were not prepared for any serious action, Illynx failed to understand why it was that her queen remained so passive in her war upon the hornless. Not a single prisoner had been taken since Illynx's return to the Basin, at least not to her knowledge, and she had heard next to nothing of assaults upon the hornless filth but for her own trivial verbal abuse.

She had to admit though, she loved when Psyche repeated the same stream of thoughts she had left unspoken. The thrill of having found someone so evenly matched to her wit and ego was nearly as exciting as the rush of blood lust, perhaps because she had never bothered to care for anyone other than herself, the Empress so similar to her own heart that she could not question their bond. To do so, the golden mare felt, would be to disown her own self, and that quite simply was not in Illynx's future life goals.

She was the greatest thing since the first apple tree.

Her beautiful features tilted to look at Psyche's thought riddled face, her ears falling backwards in a slight angle as she pondered whether or not it would be worth it, not to mention how precisely they could manipulate the band of hot heads residing at the foot of their mountain. "We have a large enough force to hold the Assassin's in check should they sense a threat," she mused, "obviously, they have no other aid. Why would they have come here and requested soldiers, unless they were blind or daft? Our numbers are vast, especially compared to their few, all loyal to at least the mountain or a face upon it if not our causes." She smiled wryly, her thoughts continuing to tumble forth as they fell into place in her twisted little brain, the light in her gaze devious. "Perhaps they might be tempted with empty promises, to place themselves among our enemies," her grin grew all the more full of plots, her legs nearly dancing with her enthusiasm at the thought of such chaos as her next idea would bring. "turning upon those who thought them friends when the moment is ripe. It would do us well to have such rats in waiting, either way. The heart of the Qian makes them love each other blindly so long as it seems the other persona is the same, and Kri welcomes nearly all wing-wearers into her den of skyrats."