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."