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Oh, over there.

Cymbeline grinned. She had found one of her own, one of her own lovely little flashbugs that lit up the dark desert sands during the dark before daybreak. Such... FONDNESS. Her clan, her people~

Her eyes met the little one, decked in the garb of Pesty's clan. She grinned more as though aware of the 'compliment' and living up to it fully. This one too, could be her little flashbug, they were now one clan after all. It was as she had said, in her own backwards, roundabout manner, they were not one or the other, but all and everything, little ones included.

Cymbeline made her way over to that little group, now joined by an older horseman, passing the little cluster of mostly-Death that surrounded her very own golden scarab. The Protector trailed her hand most casually across Mengyao's shoulders as she passed, bracelets ringing sweetly like little bells. And then as though unaware the shoulder of one had ceased and the shoulder of the next had arrived, that hand trailed along the Death horseman's shoulder too, in much the same manner. She didn't even look at the pair in passing.

Her smile lost it's bloodthirsty edge, and for an instant she almost looked sane as she joined her kin and the little Conquest. "Patience~" she singsonged, addressing Salbei "Let it be strategic." The Heir giggled. "The jaws may snap even though the claws are dulled and broken. But we are not one maw and one tongue, ruthlessness and compassion do not live separate from each other in this clan. Proposing a choice, the words alone bring that choice into existence, words~"

It was clear Cymbeline thought little of being defined by anything, there was too much Insanity in her head to bind herself to mere choices.

Lan kept to her pout at Mengyao, pulling back further from him though less of fear but rather out of hesitance. She hated how he made it sound enticing, promising even. "I have my pride, but-" She looked at her hand, where once the mark of Pride had been. "I can no longer act as if my actions would not bring shame or harm to others. That is such a role I must play now."

Two breaths, she looked back to Mengyao. "Three then."

Lan looked him dead in the eye.

"If you can convince three of the clans to join you on this campaign for revenge I will walk your path. You have convinced conquest, so how would you convince others?" She crossed her arms, yet convinced yet willing to listen. And Listen she did as the heir of Famine made her presence known and spoke in her own special way."
"Lady Cymbeline." Her bow was deep as it was formal. "I have not seen you in a long while. I trust you have been well?" Meanwhile her hand might have just slipped and given Aeron's a light squeeze.

Of course then Meng had to go and already start convincing others.

Lan pouted just a bit.

The sound was like a little bird, as Ying liked to put it, a light titter that flitted in and out of the tones of conversations. Jing always joked that she sounded like a crow, cawing at everything, out of Jest to see her pout. But the sound was there and the horsemen darted through and waved a long sleeved arm at her, the fabric draping over his limbs in a mix of green and teal that became more ornate as the detail became clearer with each step closer.

The boil greeted his sisters companions with a deep bow. "Forgive my intrusion and interruption. I mean no disrespect." he stated evenly and gently elbowed his sister to do the same. "I hope my sibling has not been troubling you two. Trouble likes to follow her."

He made no attempt to infer that he himself tried to chase after her at the moment.

Soren did what he did best, he stayed quiet. He listened to the beginning of the tale, he listened to Medea's call for them to shed their complacency. His eyes lit up at the idea, more than ready to head into battle. Any human blood shed was a good thing, and regaining their honor was something truly worth fighting for.

Charon he listened to as well, more out of respect than anything else. He represented Death, represented the head of their clan, and it was the least Soren could do. Still, it seemed foolish to him. They were horsemen. They had their place in the world, and the humans and Halloweeners were not acknowledging that. They could be civilized and shed blood. They had in the past, and they could again. Charon's arguments did not make sense to him.

But one thing held him back from immediately going to Medea's side. He was not merely responsible for himself anymore. He was pledged to another's life, and if Neru sided with Charon he could not leave her on her own. Not that she could not take care of herself, but if something happened to her in his absence...he would not be able to bare that. He would not let it happen again.

Fur-covered shoulders relaxed slightly as he caught sight of the mare. She had sided with Medea, making his decision relatively easy. He moved over toward her, not cutting in, letting her talk among the group she had around her without interuption. He was simply one presence among several now, but if she looked his way he would incline his head in acknowledgement to her.

And that was that. He had physically sided with Medea, and there were no arguments to sway him. Humans did not deserve their concern. But horsemen did deserve the humans' Fear and respect.

"Ying," he repeated with a hum then replied, "Waits is shorter, you may use that." If she was going to give him a suggestion on what to refer to her as then perhaps he would too. It seemed to be on the fair side, equivalent exchange.

The alchemist made a motion to add his own comments on the matter of their heir when it made it apparent their little group was made to expand. All the came from him was a click of his tongue and a quiet regard of Salbei before things registered and familiarity became apparent. "Salbei." He greeted with a soft nod of his head. The one he had been mistaken for and the one he had met long ago. Yes, that one. Apparently there seemed to be an acquaintance between the Sage and the Artisan and Waits took mild interest in their short interaction, taking note of it. Perhaps this was something that had been acquired when their clans had relocated. There seemed to be much more mingling after all. Hm.

And once again, inquiries found themselves at a halt when soon followed was the Heir herself joined them. The young horseman found himself shrinking slightly at her presence, having not really been in it before. Such radiance. And perhaps... something else, there seemed to be something... just different perhaps, he was not sure. But the words she spoke, the ones that she had continued from what Salbei had mentioned before, it was enough to replace the placid expression with a soft smile. Oh, how much he enjoyed being patient. "Interesting and unintended results can often come from waiting." He muttered before his eyes flicked to the other oh so cleanly dressed on.

Hm. A relation to the small Ying. With a soft click of his tongue, Waits turned his yellow eyes upon the Sage with a curious look. "You mentioned my brother. Was this recent? I have not seen him..." well, since the cave, since the explosion, since the Mother had become a flutter of moths.

Nirva only offered a half shrug as she brushed her hair aside again, the wind and desert had it's draw backs when it came to hair like hers. "And I will gladly raise my weapons to protect the clan, I'll follow you on this. Though Charon brings one good point, we have lost siblings out their from our own clan, it would be in our interest to gather them between tasks. Lest we leave our kin behind. You would want me to return for you if you where lost no?"

She gave Nergui a raised look, one eyebrow quirking slightly as they spoke. "Less of course you wanted to be left behind, I suppose I would respect that wish just as well."

Turning to the others joining around them she offered a bow of the head tucking her helmet to her side as they continued to gather.

Dreams... what good were dreams? It felt odd to the newly arrived War clan member to feel as if this was more than just someone trying to show her something. Zenobia had no idea who the two were that had been up there, talking about what course of action that they should take, and not having the faintest idea of what had become of the leaders. She had heard some rumors of some of the main clan leaders having fallen but that the heirs were still around... but if so... why does it seem as if two Death clan members were fighting over the out-come of what was left of their clans as a whole? Obviously she needed to find a way to collect some more information before even considering picking a side in what could be a very bloody situation. Humans weren't high on the list of things she actually cared about, but killing off ones food didn't sound particularly pleasant either. A girls gotta eat.

So with that, the dark red haired warrior began mingling her way around what groups were left, having seen some leave off for parts unknown, apparently already making their choices. A brown, well loved cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and provided a little comfort in what was a tense situation. It was a little unnerving to feel such hostility between clan members, though she was nothing if not adaptable.

A great scream startled Bastion out of his sleep. It took him a moment before he realized the sound had come from himself, and embarrassment settled in. It had sounded so girly. But he was stumbling awake now, struggling to understand his surroundings - or more importantly, where his home had gone. All of his hard work. His jewels. His cousin. Everything he still held dear, however little that was, seemed very far away - except for Medea.

She was there, a beacon of strength to follow as always, and he lurched forward, already prepared to kneel in front of her presence.

He never got that far.

The struggle between the two was palpable, and both of them might have had fair points - but there was no question for Bastion. Charon had made his choice for him by being so bold, and brash, as to disrespect his priestess with the words; you will step down.

Above all, disrespect of this nature would not be tolerated.

Bastion moved to stand with Medea, a solemn and unsure shadow ready to fight for the few things he believed in; one of which was that without her, they would be lost.