She rarely ventured far from her brothers side lately, torn after seeing his mother dead beside their father, watching another man lead her mother away. Disappointed that there hadn’t been divine retribution - and of the mind to find out about what divinity there even was alongside the brother of pitch.

Today, though, she gave her brother some space. Instead, there was another group that she attended to. Her father had talked some about the Arabians that had taken up with him, though there was some whispering done about how fast they had proliferated in comparison to his own herd.

When she finds Sayyida, she is surprised to find the Queen, of all things, looking despondently off into the distance. She was of pretty making, Sarisi thought, and it felt odd to see a beautiful woman unattached to a child after the passing of the season. She knew there were a couple born to the other two women simply because she was that nosey as to have been paying some mind to the group.

"You are Miro, yes? So queens can be sad too, ey?" Her shimmering-quality voice imparts. "If you were of Teke blood, I would tell you to ask another man to compete for your hand so that you might have some fun. Boys can be fun if you make them fussy."

She is lithe and beautiful, but she is too young for Sayyida to doubt that she means things in the most innocent of manners. Her body pulls alongside the Arabian Queen and she looks out at the desert with her golden eyes.