in the wrong light anyone can look like a darkness; any

[Dacia]

I can still hear you saying - 
you would never break the chain 

She’s not surprised at the other mares negativity - vanity always had a strong voice, where virtue came as a soft check to pride. So in turn, she remains silently observant (her hidden power) and watches the two interact with a tilted head. Yes, she agrees that the snake draped around the mare’s neck is somewhat unsettling, that is, if someone were to find themselves unsettled by such things. But she’s a sibling to a skin-shifter, has seen his destruction cover the entirety of a kingdom, watched a murderer end her dams life. Unsettling things were few and far between these days for Dacia. Contagion murmurs back to her, the snake woman, and Dacia’s head rights itself, eyes narrowing in suspicion at his claim.

“What’s done is done then.” She smoothly orates, a single ear tipping in the direction of the third-party member. “There must be reason for it.” No one brings the dead back to the living without ample design or plan in mind. This stallion, paper-thin with eyes that weep and a body made for desolation, seems far from capable of any grand scheme. Dacia, however, knows better than to judge a book by its cover. “Unless, of course, you’ve no idea what that reason may or may not be, it seems to me like you’re avoiding your destiny.” She quips, finding humor in that statement alone. Destiny. Fate. Worthless nouns that steal breath and give false hope to the weak-minded.

Astri had taught her that destiny was nothing short of one’s own effort. It was your own duty to strike out, make a name for yourself. Lupei had done his part, now Dacia was biding her time to make the correct first step on her own path. Her attention wavers, gaze circling round to the oddly-tattooed mare. “From the Jungle?” She guesses aloud, waiting patiently, ever patiently, for a reply.

Dacia;

color-changing vixen of the chamber