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Nirva's wings wrapped tight around her once it was all done, her helmet was gone as where her weapons she was pacing among the other horsemen. The memories of that shadow, the loyalty to herself, the idea the Medea would somehow damn them lingering in her core somewhere. But Death was dead the memories where back of what the word meant, but to know he was gone? That Medea was indeed the ruler and had won?

It seemed un-real.

What did it mean for the rest of the world?

"Where do we go now though? What have we wrought?"

it was easy to tell when Shik arrived: one simply had to turn their head towards the whooping, victorious cries War was known for.

So this was what accomplishment felt like. After two years of scrounging and feeding off of Halloween's pity, they could have something of their own at last. The executioner brimmed with energy in spite of the taxing journey, and his wings shifted as if ready to take flight at any moment. He did not need to voice his opinion as far as what side he was on: Medea already knew.

As he waited for Shaheen to appear, he bothered Aeron with a rough pat on the shoulder. "Brother-in-Death, you look better. I would have you know I avenged your unfortunate fall," Shik said with a grin. "Drinks after this are in order, no? I am certain Shaheen will be joining us." And probably Lan, if one came with the other. And for once, he wasn't annoyed about it; just slightly put off. Lan had proved herself (somewhat) capable in battle, after all, and she had chosen to fight alongside them. It was good enough for him.

Among those gathered he saw a slightly familiar face and remembered that it was Yuzhi's cousin, from long ago when the clans were still foraging for resources. He seemed lost in thought, which made it perfectly okay to interrupt. "Is something troubling you, hero?" Shik asked. "There is only one way forward; there should be no hesitation."

He turned to Nirva with a bright, almost manic look. "We do as we have always done: reclaim what was lost and destroy or dominate those who stand in our way. The only difference now is that we have shown them the power we are capable of. They will remember now what it means to fear us."

The look on his face increased the frown on her own, it was a look she was used to seeing on a War horsemens face, that wild blood lust and victory. She shook her head a bit.

"It's fine that we've made a display, that fear and respect has been earned but we did just kill what might have been one of the last ancients and one that was personally the head of my clan. I'm worried that we might celebrate now, but what effects might this leave on our world?"

The whooping shouts easily caught the priestess' attention, and she turned a smiling face to Shik. She understood his satisfaction over what had transpired, all that infectious joy. So many of he faces around them were solemn and unsure, and she didn't understand it. They should be happy! They should be celebrating, this was a great occasion, did they not understand that?

On her way to the war warrior's side a small hand touched the shoulder of someone she had not seen in quite some time. So much had been happening in the mare's life that there hadn't been room for much worry, but she'd spared a thought for the young famine stallion.

And the tall guardian she spotted standing on his own, attention on his hands, and not on Medea, or anyone else. She thought about going to him, but he seemed troubled, and she would not know what to do with his doubt.

She had none.

As she reached Shikoba and the small knot of clansmen around him she lay a hand on his back to announce her presence before letting it fall away and smiling up at him. "We've waited a long time to reclaim what was taken from us."

She awoke, and with her memories returned that quickly, she was instantly overcome with a sense of elation. They had done it. She and Shikoba had done their part in aiding Medea, and it was done. They had come to her, had completed the tasks that she had given them to complete, had made their choice between destruction and grief, and now she knew that their choices, their cause, had been correct.

There was only one person in all of the clans at that moment that she would have shared that moment with, just that one moment of satisfaction and pleasure, a cause for celebration indeed. Even then she could feel her excitement bubbling up inside of her, bursting to be let free in ecstatic whoops and cheers and a fist pumping up into the sky.

But she managed to retain her statuesque form of calm, though her golden eyes were alight and the smile upon her lips spoke volumes of her delight, and when the sounds of one familiar voice caught her attention, she turned from where she stood, eyes seeking out his, before she was turning, and running towards him, sprinting across the ground, the forms of others as she passed a blur of colors, her wings held slightly spread and aloft, more to keep them from knocking anybody against the side of the head then anything else.

There were others around him, yes, but she could ignore them for the moment. She only had eyes for one horseman, one man that she had started this journey with, and together, together, had witnessed it's end.

When she was close enough to throw herself at him, she did, powerful leg muscles pushing her off the ground so that even without using her wings she was soaring at him, barreling into him, her arms wrapping around his neck and her legs around his torso as she laced fingers into his hair and yanked his head back, before tilting her own face down and pressing a long kiss against his lips.

Spectators and his aversion to public displays of affection be damned. She had earned this.

pulling away, all she could manage to say in a hushed, whispered and overexcited tone was "We did it!"

The guardian stood, a solid form staring up at the tower. There was much to think about, the idea that things were changing, but it was thought about quickly.

Their time had come.

He reveled in the power he could feel emanating from the High Priestess, no, their ruler. Their Queen. His Queen. It showed only the strength of their united clans, the strength that those who were not afraid to truly harvest Fear could have. There was no question in his mind about which side he would take, and it was with relief that he knew Nergui would feel the same way. It was time to reclaim their place. He had no desire to be a god, but his priestess deserved to be a goddess. And any Fear he could reap for her and their clan would be well earned. And he would enjoy every second of the terror he caused.

So he moved a single step closer, not approaching, but making his decision physically known to those around him. He could feel the new power of their clan settling on him like a mantle, and if anyone looked closely they could see him flexing his physical muscles, simply savoring the victory that he had totally helped with. Really.

Wrath awoke to the harsh reality of what had just occurred and had no idea how to feel about it. Certainly he did not agree with the way Charon and presumably Death had wanted them to move forward, but to have killed the ancient himself, to utterly destroy the one true leader of Wrath's own clan?

He was going to need a moment, or several, to process what had just happened. Standing alone with his hands at his sides, he turned his head to either side, searching for any amount of familiarity. While Medea's words rung out over them, putting into perspective what had happened and why and how they now could move on, he kept his gaze sweeping over those present, until it landed on one standing, also alone, not too far off.

With long strides he reached the priestesses side, taking up place beside her as if by accident, remaining silent for a time before red eyes shifted down, and he rumbled.

"Are you troubled, Priestess?" He had caught the tail end of her bitter chuckle, and had to wonder just what her thoughts were on the events that had unfolded.