[OOC | This thread takes place pre-invasion.]

There was a certain feeling around the Aurora Basin; the shade could not quite put her hoof on it, but the very air seemed stagnant and dull as she breathed it in each morning, the moon's light dim and uninspiring as she wandered through her sunless days. It was with an uneasy, restless, resentful feeling that she took to roaming the cavernous labyrinths that meandered through the mountains surrounding her home, daringly exploring deeper and deeper, the soul-light wound possessively in her mane a guide through the trenches, as it were. She had, at first, been a bit put off by the thought of a dead soul riding along in her banner, but as time wore on, she had grown affectionate of the light, which seemed to cling tightly to the strands of hair regardless of weather conditions. Would it leave eventually? Perhaps. But until then, she would enjoy the metaphorical warmth that it provided.

It was a particularly dull morning, as the moon had chosen to veil her face behind a rather thick blanket of clouds that hinted at rain. The shadow-mare emerged from a cave by the mouth of the valley, in which she spent many a night watching the comings and goings of the land, and made her way lazily to the hot springs. Birdsong had arrived, or some darkened semblance of it; though she could not see the colors of the blossoms beneath her hooves, there was a new spring to the ground that had come with the disappearance of the crunch of snow. Perhaps another would revel in the warmer weather, but the shade found herself particularly unimpressed. She was a wintry creature, by nature cold and aloof, and so while others rejoiced with the coming of spring and new life and all of those wonderful beginnings, her mood grew darker and surlier.

The hot springs were really unnecessary at this time of year, for warmer weather brought a much milder climate even to the far north. It would never be the desert, a fact for which she was eternally grateful, but nor was it the frozen wasteland that accompanied the cold winter months. Still, she approached the warm waters with a certain feeling of affection in her breast, for, after all, this was all hers, and she was rather proud of her things. She was pleased with her herd, though she could wish darker thoughts upon many of them; she was pleased with her land, despite the bone-chilling snows that it brought upon them every now and again. It was an odd mixture of emotions, really: the dark, moody restlessness that accompanied spring and the pride in those whom she led. And so she gazed, unseeing, into the water, absently watching the glowing soul in her mane as it danced in a slight breeze.

@[Ruka]

[W/C | ---]

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Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.

The shade had learned, over the course of her tenure as Lady, to be sociable and, if not kind, at least approachable. She had learned of the value of esteem in the eyes of one's fellows, and so she had tried very hard to make herself less unlikeable. It is important to distinguish between "making herself likeable," which would in fact be near impossible for the Empress, and "making herself less unlikeable," for the latter was altogether easier and more plausible. Should one enter into a conversation regarding the Lady of the Basin, it is unlikely that one would hear her spoken of with love and affection; rather, she might be regarded with a fearful respect. She wouldn't argue with this analysis, as she rather liked that her subjects feared her, but she valued their respect more than she would admit.

And so when her thoughtful evening was interrupted by a new face, she tried very hard not to look displeased as she turned to regard the newcomer. After all, everyone seemed to think that first impressions were so very important. She took a deep breath before replying in an attempt to make her voice less edgy than usual, so as not to scare him off. "Good evening, darling," she said in that gratingly poisonous voice of hers. She personally didn't see what was the matter with it; it inspired discomfort in others, and so she was rather pleased with its jarring quality. Others, however, did not see its beauty in quite the same light.

The stallion looks young, though she cannot properly tell in this light. He is not particularly muscular or brawny, and has some dark variation of color. Damn the sun for not returning before the moon; his light would have made getting to know her newest additions much easier. "I haven't met you yet, have I?" she inquired. "I'm afraid I've quite lost track." That was small talk, wasn't it? An attempt to be friendly? Gods, this pseudo-kind charade was getting old.

@[Ruka]

[W/C | ---]

---

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.