The snake-son might have been expecting one of the lagoon brothers, but it was fleabitten daughter of the gods he got instead.

Reginleif spied the pair arriving through the gaps in the trees - though for how long they had been “arriving” before she spotted them, she couldn’t be sure. What she could be sure of, was that neither the mare or the stallion were current resident of the lagoon. While she was not privy yet to the names of all the bachelors, she had spent enough of her time since returning to the islands within the swampy borders of the lagoon to know who was, and who was not a familiar face. That said, the white mare oozed a certain familiarity in her breeding that gave the grey mare reason for pause. She bore a certain similarity to Ragnarök or Ársæl’s lines, but whether she was of those lines or not meant precious little to the red-freckled mare.

The pair were an interesting watch for a little while – the white mare moving forward while the red stallion prompted her. There was a monotony to the movement, however, like they were just going through the motions – or perhaps that was just Reginleif.

Cracking her tail against the frigid air, a smirk twisted across the mare’s ashen lips. Time to have a little fun.

Darting from the trees with ears pinned, the freckled mare made a beeline for the stallion. ”You’re not in the belly of the beast yet, boy. No time to rest!” she smirked, attempting to herd him and his probable offering toward where the bachelors were currently grouped. ”Fucking men, always doing their jobs half-arsed” she half-muttered, half-laughed, mostly to herself.