Desert
Leaders: Nyimara, Asmodeus, Quinn
Stallions: None
Mares: Kara, Kohelet, Rhaynira, Syrax
Foals: Cahyr
Posted on January 18, 2024 at 05:07:06 PM by Nyimara
Nyimara is not sad in the least to be saying goodbye to Tinuvel and its cold winters. The last few months have been spent in delightful bliss however and as familiar as she is with the hardiness of Salem’s summer months, she will walk into the balmy winter here with a belly rounded with baby and health. Most of her carefully cultivated herd is likewise well prepared for life in the Desert. Even Kohelet and her daughter, are no strangers to the relatively harsh climate that Salem did offer. It was only Asmodeus who had never lived outside of Tinuvel before.
Glancing at the handsome beast she had chosen to mate now, the tiny prickles of concern (as carefully as she hides them evaporate). The disgust he no doubt must feel (hell, it had been her own initial reaction to the hills) is carefully hidden behind the mask of confidence he wears. He does not yet separate himself from the rest of the herd to stand in haughty regard as she addressed Solomon as she might have liked, but it does linger closely, gazing on his sire with eyes hard as the wind-carved ice of Tinuvel. Her confidence in him grows. A single, fluted lobe tilts backward as the silver-haired witch keeps her blackened eyes on Solomon’s face. The shock. The betrayal. The pain. The fear…. As weathered and familiar as the old stallion is to the surprises life can toss in one’s direction, she can say with utmost certainty… Solomon had not expected this. A chuffle of amusement purrs from her lungs as she gives her finely dished muzzle a toss, letting the flailed attempt at a dig about poisoned touch roll off her shoulders. She glances towards Asmodeus, with a wolfish grin. It was all the response she needed. Solomon’s congratulations might be empty, but the pain in his eyes is real. However it is his next words that find their mark. Dark ears rotate backwards, disappearing into the thick mantle of his silvery white mane. Dark eyes narrow as the upward curl of her lips turn far more feral and malicious. Bjorn’s dismissal and Aranck’s abandonment had hit hard, the rumors spread as quickly as Solomon and the damned Ysabel’s little feet could carry them. Likewise Cullen had used her notariaty in hopes of keeping the Lagoon under his command but even with her tethered to his side, that had ended as quickly as it began. Only Quinn seemed to have kept close but even his eye had wandered and resulted in a handful of carefully shielded children that she was not as oblivious to as he might have hoped. ”No, I suppose you don't… even if your complacency cost them a crown and a kingdom.” she quipped with an all too forcible laugh. By the gods she hoped the promise Asmodeus showed was real. Absently she takes a step towards Asmodeus, drawn into the possessiveness of her new lover.Solomon’s remark of Xiomara is met with casual eyes, despite the sparsely spread herd, she cannot find the bone-faced woman among the crowd gathered along the beach. She had half expected her to step forward in her own display of prowess and not-quite-veiled threat.However the face that does emerge is not one she expected to see. Seperating from the rest of the mares and foals that had decided to brave the harsh Salem summer, the one-eyed Daciana stalks forward with brows narrowed in contempt. A wry smile ghosts across her own ashen lip. ”Oh look, you’ve found another stray.” she purrs, flicking her water logged tail once against her swollen barrel. ”I had long thought you dead by now Daciana…” she coos, ”Glad to see you still…. alive.” she finishes chortling a light laugh before turning her attention back to Solomon. Dark eyes narrow as he glances across her own herd, his green-blue eyes searching. ”Do not bite the hand that feeds you, Solomon. If you remember…” she snipes, lifting her small chin a bit higher, ”This one bites back!” she finishes, stomping her hoof in agitation. ”Go back to the Cove now. Your desert prison has been traded for a frozen one. We are done here.” she snarls, her patience wearing thinner with each passing moment.Replies:
- comfort me with apples, for i am sick of love - By Solomon January 25, 2024 at 03:41:13 AM
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