From the wood works, they flowed; a myriad of faces, each in turn reeking of the Qian and their burning trees. The first was a painted mare, and she was splendid and beautiful; too beautiful, really, for Illynx's liking. She eyed the blank and white female with a forcefully swallowed disdain, the corporal not keen on others prowling upon her discovery, especially those with such hideously bald faces as this one. An ear was partially given to what the Edge member had to say, the warrior more interested in the scars that brought to mind the battle she herself had just undergone, wondering where in the realm the overo horse had been at the time of the monster invasion, Illynx seeming to have fared worse in the fight than Kahlua had by the number of wounds; or, perhaps, it was that Illynx was more brave than she.

Flordeperia, was the name of the pretty mare discovered in the shadows, and Illynx quite liked her attitude. A smile spread itself across her face, sweet and sickly, a glance given to the rather pretty equine alongside her, already knowing the answer to the question asked by the unicorn mare without having to think twice about it. However, the filth was flowing in, even as she pondered her reply; a filly, shortly there after followed by a stallion, made her draw her breath in and hold it within her chest, its flavor bitter and rigid as she swallowed her resentments. The filly was what really outraged her; such a lovely thing, her black bodice adorned with bright white, her horn pristine and glorious protruding from her brow. And all about her, the stench of fire, the offensive odor of wings and earth. A fool, such a pretty one at that, she pondered to herself, eyes roving from the child to the bat-winged... thing that had arrived with her, despicable creatures.

Only one thing could be ascertained at this moment, from Illynx's perspective - the three of them had provided enough hot air to melt the lingering snow right off the overhanging branches. No wonder the trees of her birthplace now burned.

She was saved by a familiar voice, her features turning to beam upon the dark pointed Descaro, her pleasure at no longer being so greatly outnumbered by rodents evident upon her previously dismal face. Returning his nod of greeting, she listened to him explain the herd to Floradeperia, approving of all he had to say with a smug and rather pleased grin. After his words died, she herself chimed in, amusement lightening her voice. "Descaro speaks true," she lowered the amplification of her voice, directing it more entirely towards the arrival herself, her most friendly and inviting of expressions worn as a mask to hide her true aims - power over others, "our numbers are of similar quantity to the Edge. However, I would say we hold finer quality, if you follow?" Her gaze slid slowly towards the hideous figure of Duchanar, his wings gaining in their offense on her nerves the longer he stood there, worsened by the presence of the hornless wench and the heretic child, before she returned them to search the face of Floradeperia for a reaction, a true understanding of the allusion she had made to her own heart.

Do you hate them, too?