Desert

The little golden mare did not seem cowed by his approach, which spoke well of her boldness. Nyimara seemed to like the women around her to be strong in their own ways, if Kara was any indication. Asmodeus knew little of the elusive gray mare, only that her loyalty seemed unquestionable, despite her silence. Few mares wished to be near the silver-maned witch, and fewer still could claim the right to stand beside her. Nyimara was and seemingly always had been in a class of her own.

Asmodeus chuckled as she made her statement, though he would have to nurse the small bruise on his ego later. She'd followed him, apparently, but it was not him she'd been searching for, not really. "Most do," he said mildly a moment after she'd finished, his dark tail lashing at his hindquarters. "My queen's notoriety is well known on the islands," he murmured, filling the quiet as he contemplated the lithe mare before him. She had seemingly not yet come into herself, although she carried herself well for her age. She was full of promise, full of life, seemingly not yet worn down by all the tragedies that fate liked to wield as character development.

"Well then, Goldenrod," he rolled her name around on his tongue, getting a feel for it. "Welcome to the Desert." He nudged his nose out to the expansive landscape around them, although his gaze remained trained on her. As flattering as it was for Nyimara's renown to bring them potential sycophants... it also aroused his suspicion. What better way to bring someone down than to work as an agent from within? Still, she was here, and from what little he had seen so far, she seemed genuine, which was a rare enough trait in this day and age. Perhaps she did truly mean the words that she had said.

"I am Asmodeus, your King." He tipped his head a fraction of an inch, a cold smile curling on his lips. "You know Nyimara, of course, our queen. And there is Quill," he tilted his head, pretending to think. It should be obvious enough to see that it was a charade, rather than a true lack of memory. A way to shade the legitimacy of his compatriot. "No, sorry. It's Quinn, not Quill. Easy enough to forget."

He made the equivalent of a shrug and then gestured toward the interior, inviting her to walk with him. "What brought you to the Desert?" Before she could reiterate the reasons she'd already given, Asmo tossed his head slightly. "To train, yes. But why here? Why now?"