She hadn’t realized just what sort of uproar she was walking into, but the moment she arrived in Day Court, she could sense that something was brewing on the horizon. Something here was unsettling those that lived here. There were whispers in the street of someone who had killed the Day Court’s queen. Whispers that the stallion who had done so was mostly unwanted and unwelcome in this court. So naturally, the mare was interested. If the people didn’t want him here, then she would fight to keep him here. After all, this was just the sort of chaos she wanted to encourage.

She walked along the streets, eying those that called this place home. She could tell the ones that were fearful of what was to come, those that were angry about the turn of events, those that were ready to rebel, and the few that were uncertain. Their whispers and body language told the story their words did not.

It wasn’t long before her wandering lead her directly in the path of the would-be dictator. She had seen this sort of take over before and dictatorship and fear was all that would keep this place in line. He seemed like just the wort to get the job done.

She comes up alongside him, falling into step with him. She does not draw attention to her position. The only thing that gives her away is the flick of her ear towards him and the words that leave her lips, destined for him. “You’ve caused quite the uproar it seems.” Slowly she turns her head to look him fully in the eye. “I’m rather fond of uproar.” She says nothing more, allowing him to take what he wanted from her words. She wasn’t necessarily on anyone’s side, but she would always favor those that were looking to disrupt the natural order of things. He had potential. She would give him that much.

@Raum

She honestly does not expect him to notice her or to even care. She’s learned that not everyone appreciates her sort of madness. Many cannot find the beauty in how she looks at the world. They want to see happiness and love and hearts and flowers. Such things made her nauseous. Others, preferred to see the world run by dictators where only death and fear run rampant. Targwyn is a bit of a different breed. There is something else that fuels her, something far more chaotic.

And when their gaze meets, she knows she has his attention. She can already feel the way his eyes watch over her, sizing her up and determining her worth. Eyes flick to his bonded, the snake only drawing a pleasant smirk across her lips. She does not dwell on the creature who’s eyes are covered in silk. Instead, she turns to his master.

His question is that of confirmation. He wants to know what her true intentions were. While she did not serve anyone or anything, she was not opposed to working with the man in order to have her own goals met. She did not think their agendas were too far misaligned. “Aye, chaos and uproar should be my middle name.” Her words are thick with truth and her body language tells him that she is not lying. She means every syllable.

She turns from him for only a brief moment while her eyes rest on the others who walk amongst them. She sees the looks of disgust, the way they pool together against their new king. She sees the way some others gather with awe and wander. There are two sides to those within this court and soon, she felt, this court would erupt with civil war. There was something beautiful about it, something that made that crooked grin all the more mischievous. “You know, they say madness is like gravity…” Her eyes turn back to lock with his own. An only when she has his full attention does she continue. “…all it takes is a little push.” She cannot help the way her lips part and a chuckle escapes them. Just the idea that she can help push this court into madness has her body alive with electricity. Just knowing that she could help be his catalyst was all she needed to feel alive.

@Raum

Targwyn has never been one who appreciates the feral gaze of others upon her own body, but she says nothing to him. In fact, she does not even let on that it bothers her. Ever since she was a child, she had been looked at as if she were a freak awaiting the arrival of the circus. In a herd as plain as the one she had come from, it was no surprise that someone with her strange markings would be seen as demonic. Perhaps that is what started Targwyn down the path she was currently on. Perhaps, even, things would have turned out differently had her family shown her the least bit of love and respect. Now, she doesn’t understand those words.

At his words, her eyes follow his until they meet. Did he really think her as mad as the mad hatter? Surely not. Then again, he did not know her as well as she knew herself. “Ah, but you have misunderstood.” Her tone is neutral, but the way she starts off her words said as if someone has made a grand epiphany. “I am as sane as the next person.” She pauses to make sure that she still has his undivided attention. Because after all, what she was about to say could be what draws him to her…or what pushes him away. “I am a vessel for madness and chaos. I bring it where it was once not present. But no, I am not mad.” She wanted nothing more than to see other succumb to insanity. She would never take credit for it, but she would ensure that madness took hold and grew from a small seedling that she planted into a grant oak tree that would live on for hundreds of years.

She is about to leave him with parting words, but he is quick to threaten her (or at least as she sees it). The stallion before her claims that she can live should she be of use to him. Little did he know that Targwyn lives under no one’s iron fist. “I live under no king and I serve no gods. Should our interests align, I will work with you, but not under you. Do I make myself clear?” There was a reason that she had chosen no court to call her own. She was a lone ranger, a wanderer of worlds and a taker of lives. She had not lived under a king in years - why start now.

She stands tall, her eyes still resting on the silver stallion and his pet. If they were going to have some sort of working relationship, then perhaps they should start off with formalities. “You may call me Targwyn.” She will not respond to anything other than her name. In the same hand, she will call him by no other name except his given name.

@Raum

Perhaps the difference (at least to Targwyn) between madness and chaos and those that cause the madness and chaos, is usually the individuals are unaware of what they do. A mad hatter does mad things and yet thinks of himself as sane as you or I. But Targwyn knowingly causes the madness and chaos and yet still calls herself sane. Some would consider that the same thing. Perhaps it was. Perhaps the difference was that she could control herself and her actions. She can make conscious choices whereas someone who is mad cannot. It’s a very fine line that she loves to tightrope across. One little sway of the wind could blow her either way.

Regardless of whether or not she is actually mad, Targwyn doesn’t really care about what he thinks of her or what his opinion of her on the matter was. Perhaps it was a good thing that he chose not to speak about such as issue.

However, even through all of this, she offers him a name. She doesn’t need to make herself known to him. In fact, he would probably forget her the moment he took a step away. That was fine. He walked with a closet full of skeletons. He made sure his actions were known, and thus she knew exactly who he was. Nothing he did was subtle. All of it screamed his name and screamed destruction and death. That is what differed between the two of them. They were not that much different, really. He was just more up front about his actions whereas she was a little more behind the scenes and subtle. People would hate him for his actions…no one would know she was behind her own.

“Look out for a letter.” It was all he says to her. She is unmoved by him, unexcited about a letter that he claims would be sent to her. “I have yet to establish an address, I’m sure it will get lost along the way.” Sarcasm bleeds through each syllable. She doesn’t care about a letter, no matter what it states. She doesn’t care about him, about the actions he’s done. She cares about none of it. “And tell me…why should I answer your letter, Raum.” She offers him a question, a question of why she should do anything he says. She is not afraid of him. She’d rather die beneath his hooves than bend at the knee to him. Despite his reputation, she does not fear him.

@Raum