I’m not, you know, particularly bothered by the large electrical bird shifter in Nerine, not when she sweeps by, and not when she starts crying her heart out all over Nerine. She isn’t a threat to the land itself - she’s unpredictable, sure, but since when do I want predictable in the North? I should unseat myself if I did... though, I must say we have come to a bit of a lull these days. It seems to me all of Beqanna has, but still.

Silence before the storm. I know who’s bringing it, though, and I don’t mind.

I’m considering to not even show up at all and see what the outcome will be in time, but that would be rude - and not a great head-start if she does unseat Nev. Whom I frankly haven’t seen actively bothered by anything about Nerine in a while. Not that I was either, but I’m still trying to get people to look at the North as a whole, instead, and if someone shows up who’s able to light a spark, well - you won’t find me opposing the idea.

Some others might, though, so perhaps it’d be better if I just showed up anyway. Fae know I was looked down upon when I didn’t attempt to injure or kill the Pangean children for lighting winter on fire, so here I am now. Spreading my wings, I do not bother with a full shift, and take my time to follow the screeching bird. I land not too far behind her, shaking my crest and shoving the wings away.

Someone else has arrived by the time I’ve walked over, though it may be said that my gait has been rather lazy. It’s a boy, but I know he’s not from any of the northern lands. Deciding not to ask him how or why he came here, I just settle down between them. People usually know who I am by now, and if they don’t, the previous wings and my icy scales are clue enough for them to guess. If not, well - not my problem.

There is little being discussed right now, and much like when I claimed the Isle, this seems like a rather silent passing of leadership so far. The colt asks why she’s yelling, so I just roll my shoulders a bit. Careless maybe, but who am I to judge her if she’s not even started? She might have good ideas.

I’m listening, Popinjay.

The thought is only projected at the young mare, and I give her a bright look, almost a smile. I know she never introduced herself to me, but there were multiple Taigans who knew her when I asked about the bird who showed up on the Isle that day.

She must have some proposal, or at least a reason behind her claim. If she’s answering the colt, then she can answer my one, unasked question as well. If she wins, then what’s next?

The colt seems to see something funny about me, which admittedly may be a first. Lots of kids were always scared of my rather thick draft built and color-changing eyes. Add the occasional maniacal grin and voilá, pointy teeth do the rest. The water-winged boy is different though, and I like that about him. Bold but not too touchy. When he’s done mimicking however, he throws out a name I do not recognize. So, I slowly shake my head. ”Can’t say that I remember the name. What’s he look like?” And, perhaps, the rest of his family - fairies know I haven’t kept track of some of my children, and especially not their mates and offspring. It is possible than one has inherited icy scales - or, just as likely not. I know most of my kids were roan and carried some gold, but whatever comes after I cannot possibly know.

Sometimes I wish I could read minds - in this instance, when Poppy’s head tosses, I would have enjoyed the bay woman’s answer, and probably accepted it as a good reason. Alas, no such tricks for me, so when she tosses her head I find no answer, only defiance. She comes close to tell me what I already know - lightning is with her, and the spark on her face only amplifies her words. A small zapping sensation reaches my ears, the only un-scaled part of my head, but my eyes have a green spark on them when she retreats with a mischievous grin of her own. ”Show-off,” I tell her but it is most likely lost in the thunderclap that follows. As a result, the ground beneath me doesn’t scorch, because I unload the charge in a rather different way. I don’t really know how it works, how for a moment lightning existed between us - but I’m glad for it anyway, seeing as I’m not ran through with the stuff but rather it seems to pass around me*.

A low chuckle follows. ”Don’t get boring. We’ve been through this before.” I tssk, then look at the boy just to check if he isn’t harmed by our decharging. Her question grows more serious however, and I suppose it’s time to make a stand. Trouble is, none of the so-called leaders or council members have followed me here. Which means they don’t get a say, I suppose. ”Depends. If you grow boring and plan on screeching only, I’d rather you bothered your adoptive mom with it than me.” I let my shoulders roll a little - it really isn’t much of a bother, just inconvenient if she turns out to be a disappointment rather than an investment. Time will tell, and I won’t claim to be good at predictions - when all I’ve tried to be is unpredictable.

The colt is currently - yes, I hear myself thinking it - more interesting than the mare. The sapphire blue I don't recognise, but the gold roaning is a dead giveaway. "Hmm." I answer non-descriptively, contemplating this matter as I inspect the boy's coloring. I wonder if we're talking grandchild or worse, but then the colt laughs and leaves out his wings. Some impressive tricks indeed - not a lot of horses have the capability to alter that much about themselves. Before I can finish my conversation with Crowns however, Poppy makes a lightning show, which momentarily distracts us all. Nevertheless it is just a distraction and unfortunately for her, I've lived long enough not to be impressed by every single display. "Then make it better." I task her in reply; she'll have to do more than just show up, be a loudmouth and throw around some lightning, but honestly it can't hurt to see her try and make Nerine more alive. Fairies know where Neverwhere is now, but apparently she feels unobliged to say anything about it right now.

So, I've decided to leave the matter be and see what Poppy does with the place.

As the boy lists what his tricks comprehend, I start to realize just how much magic he holds. I blink once, then grin a little, opting for a mental approach and wondering if he'll be able to respond in kind. "I bet you could even take her lightning and shape it into whatever you wanted." I'm an old, grumpy trickster, alright. I'm not even saying it to annoy Popinjay - I'm really just curious how he reacts to a suggestion.