Common

Rehoboam watched the sky overhead as it shifted from blue to orange to red and finally, with a grace that far exceeded his own, to a deep purple. It was strange to think that this was the same sky that he had fallen asleep under countless times in his foalhood, secure in the knowledge that he had his parents to watch over him. It felt different here, in this land of perpetual strangers. Darker. More ominous. He did not have to worry at night about wolves hunting his herd, but he had learned that there were far greater dangers than a few wild dogs to worry about here.

He isn't looking for company when he hears the call of the lone mare, and now that he has Celestine safely (albeit just barely) contained in the Lagoon, he doesn't feel any particular urge to court her. If he wanted to play at being a herd stallion he would have joined his brothers in the Arch, rather than chasing his history in the Lagoon. But he is curious to see who will approach. It wouldn't hurt to know which leaders were out gathering new residents… perhaps the information could even prove useful in time.

However, the moment he spots the unforgettable sight of the silver-maned witch, he cannot help but cackle in amusement. So she'd slipped her shackles again, had she? The last he'd heard, Cullen had managed to displace her, but clearly, that had not kept her down for long. In truth, Rehoboam had never spoken to Nyimara directly, but he'd heard plenty of stories and had watched her during her rule over the Arch and of the Inlet from afar. He knew who she was, even if she did not yet know him.

Casually, the lean tobiano stallion inserted himself into the conversation just as her offer ended and he grimaced with a small tchhhh sound. "Oh, I don't know about that, sweetheart."

His gaze flicked from Nyimara back to the pretty little thing she was trying to trick into obedience. Her chocolatey coat was broken into flecks that traced across her body, accentuating the elegant lines of her figure. Just from looks alone, Rehoboam was fairly certain the girl would have no trouble finding a home with someone else, even if he disrupted things a bit.

"You don't want to do that," he murmured conspiratorily, tipping his head in her direction. Stretching forward as if to convey a secret, he dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "I have it on very good authority that this woman eats pretty girls like you for breakfast out of jealousy, when she's not busy having the mares in her care forced to bear children against their will or pining after a stallion who seems to hate her guts." His gaze cuts back to Nyimara coolly, flint in his normally warm brown eyes. Despite the almost playful intonation, there is no lie in his little speech. "In fact, she's so unpleasant that even the Lagoon men opted out of tolerating her."

A smile touches on his lips briefly and he steps forward, seeking to position himself to block Nyimara from going after the girl any further. If she wanted to lay into him, he'd gladly welcome the extra beating in payment for the sweet satisfaction of thwarting her.

Turning back to the girl, her offers a slightly more genuine smile, although he keeps an ear locked onto the silver witch. "Run along pretty bird. Go to the Meadow or the Falls, I don't care." His muzzle lifts in the general direction of the two lands. This sweet little mare didn't belong with the Lagoon any more than she belonged with Nyimara. Quickly, he returned his full attention back to Nyimara in preparation. "But you won't be going with the witch."