Indira nods to the confirmation that Gabbar is gone and she can't help the disappointment welling in her chest. The imagination of a much younger version of herself has shaped him into some hero. He saved her from that sandstorm and brought her home when she was lost. While she may not know him well, he is the only stallion outside her own family who ever showed her such kindness and asked for nothing in return. Indira was eager to encounter him again. Now she only wonders where he's gone.

"I'm Indira, daughter of Orhan and Arcana of the Desert." Indira introduces herself and clarifies her origins in one up-front sentence. Hopefully Valve favors her neighbors in the Desert, or Indira may have placed her own head on the chopping block. This isn't something she considers though. Indira is yet young and much of her adolescence was spent abroad, so her parents are seen only through the eyes of the weanling filly that idolized them.

Turning her attention back to Jaxon, Indira anticipates a sorry attempt to talk his way out of this corner he's been backed into, but much to her surprise, he doesn't. His honesty is unexpected and borderline admirable. He's not wrong. It's an honor indeed to be sought after, but Indira prefers to keep her freedom in tact. Her wings are better admired spread against a backdrop of desert sky than through the bars of a captor's cage. Anger flares inside the painted mare at the prospect alone. How frustrating would it be to fight for your freedom and win, only to turn around and be caught again moments later. No. Not today bold Jaxon.

Her nose wrinkles in distaste and Indira casts an exasperated look towards Valve. I'll gladly help you chase him our. Just give the word, the look seems to say.