She still smelled feral, the wilds clinging to her skin as the dark chestnut unicorn slipped alongside Illynx, the corporal filling her nostrils with the delicate and feminine odor of the woman blended with the stench of the wilderness. Soon enough, she would smell like flowers and pine, snow and grass, like all the rest who rested their heavy heads here at night. The slip of her jaw was not unnoticed, nor the hesitation in her features as the word home slid across her ears, tempting her with all of its jewels. The glimpse into the shadows of her soul was brief, however, absorbed by a smile both sly and divine, the golden draped soldier returning the expression in a softer form as her delicately crafted ears lifted to catch the words that slipped from Flordeperia's tongue.

As the stranger's eyes swept across the stars, Illynx heard her words but could not truly understand them; she hadn't truly been afraid since shortly after her heart had steeled itself after the death of her parents, a child without guidance who emerged from her desolation with a heart made of steel knives, and never had she been helpless. Her horn was her lover, her teeth beloved friends, her dark hooves their faithful mount. She would be nothing if not for her weapons, and while she knew that women had other gleaming tools at their disposal than just these three, she had found that none of her other utensils had proved quite so useful as the application of the trio's violence. It was possible the sea-foam adorned mare might still be hardened by training and taught to use her weapons, but Illynx found through her perception of this one's character thus far that was not cut out for a life of war and blood shed quite so well as Psyche and herself.

There were still uses for those talented in other areas, however useless the corporal may find the other ranks of the herd.

The subtle grin that hovered on the chocolate unicorn's features bloomed into one of true understanding at the mention of power, drawing her mind back to the curious flaxen mare alongside her. Her golden eyes swept across the curves of the mynx, finding that perhaps she was just in her self admiration; the mare was well built, supple, a true woman of elegant grace if ever there had been one. Illynx herself understood all too well how men could become so easily pliable under feminine touches, her own frame sculpted properly and providing her with more than just speed and good, strong muscles.

Her gaze rose with her crown as the sudden chuckle of another roused her memory, brought to mind the face of a stallion she had not been fortunate enough to catch up with in some time. The smile that rose to her face with the image was revealing as to her true feelings for the barbed horned stallion; friendly and kind, her eyes glimmered pleasantly as they found his silhouette in the darkness, his lanky and girlish build only part of the intrigue of the man with the braided lock. His cheerful nudge upon her shoulder drew her smile into more of a line than it had been before, but she let what she considered to be disrespect be over ridden by her subconscious desire to make a connection with the rather strange male and how friendly he seemed on this occasion than last she had shared words with him. For whatever reason, Ruka seemed the most enthralling of toys, though she could not quite place her hoof upon why aside from his casual talent at fanning the flames of her burning ego; it wasn't that he had killed the lightning dragon that had tried to claim the Steppe, as she had already been keen upon his person before then, nor was it the allure that hovered about the brilliance of Deodat, rather something so unusual that try as she might there was no solution she could arrive on other than to play the desperately fun game laid out before her.

"As do you, Ruka," she genuinely stated, as he did; he was charming with his petite frame and pristine appearance, and she let him override the conversation as her words trailed into silence as she was apt to do, listening with a soft expression knit across her face. An eyebrow arched at his mention of magic, however, her face tilting slightly nearer the slender stallion in interest. She had not known that he had been blessed by the Gods in such ways, honing her curiosity all the more. Curious, also, was the predicament of Flordeperia, as Ruka was correct; the tricky had their place, indeed, and there was plenty of room for growth of oneself upon the mountain. It was all a matter of deciding what you wanted to become. "He speaks true, on most ends," she mirrored from her thoughts, a giggle trailing from her lips as she thought of his gesture to some men being beyond the allure of women (but oh, how very few, sir Ruka,) "deception is a useful skill, beauty another. If you fear death than you may ward it away with herbs and magic, or slip by it unseen in the shadow." Her smile became ruthless and sharp as her face turned about to look at Flordeperia, her eyes glowing and vibrant and her words followed by a subtle peal of chiming giggles, "I prefer the direct path of violence. It would seem you and Ruka have more in common than you and I."