Falls

Dark eyes watch with calculated fierceness as her simple explanation settles between them. There was something almost fascinating in the manner in which the understanding settled over the dark figure. From astonishment and determination, to surprise and suspicion, each emotion glitters through the dark woman’s eyes and slowly transforms the feeble creature into one that radiates determination and a will to survive. A single fluted ear twitches, deep mocha ooids following the taunt muscles and lean skeletal figure as the obsidian woman in rags lifted herself from the rejuvenating waters and strode back to stand in front of her with skeptical eyes. The silver haired woman remains unmoved at the harsh snort that escapes the dark mare’s nostrils, ignoring the flutter of misting water droplets that land on her own ashen lips. Name. Land. She wanted to know them now. When first she discovered the darkling, there had been very little life left in the mare’s fluttering breast. Now, she seemed to search for a purpose and clearly expected Nyimara to give it to her.

Wraith. The word ignites the fires in her soul. Wraith, a wraith is what she could never be. Regardless of how hard she tried, Nyimara could never meld into the shadows like the dark haired woman. Flame. Always she burned bright and furious like the raging wildfires that could rend a forest to ash. Always in her wake strode discord and chaos, no silent crypt keeper or phantom in the shadows. Her screams radiated across the islands.
For a moment she remains silent, her dark eyes following the obsidian woman as she moves past and up the pebbled shore to where the emerald grasses took over once more. It was almost astonishing to see the rejuvenation that occurred in the battered creature. Though still her slender legs moved with aching slowness and exhaustion, there was a sense of growing determination made all the more evident in the bright gleam of her dark eyes. Even when she sank onto the soft bed of fresh grass, the woman’s neck stretched out to allow blunt, yellowing teeth to rip mouthfuls of the nourishment rich grasses. For a moment, the scene could almost be described as serene. Fatigue no doubt plagued the dark woman but despite that, her dark eyes remained sharp and ever vigilant in their examination of the silver haired witch. Nonchalantly, Nyimara gives her proud head a shake and steps forward into the cold mountain waters of the falls. Water laps along her fetlocks as the woman dips her head to the churning waters and presses her lips to the surface. ”Who I am and where I am from matters little in truth, what it is that I encourage from you is the only difference in the matter.” she replies, her lilted voice sing-song in delivery.

Silence hangs between them now as she takes in a long deep drink, savoring the rich sweet flavor of the cold waters as it passes her parched throat. Though she had come to familiarize herself with Salem, there was no water supply to be remotely found on the island with waters as sweet and cold as could be found here. Quenching her thirst, she lifts her head, tilting it back towards where the dark woman continues to gaze with calculated eyes ever watchful. A cheshire smile plays upon her own ashen lips now as she shifts position, turning to face the darkling from the shallow waters that shifted and swayed beneath her. ”But if you must….I go by many names…” she purrs, pale lashes blinking slowly over dark eyes as the names replay again and again her mind. ”Some call me, silver witch; others, a plague upon the islands. To some still I am a herald to the new world devoid of the usual suppression of stallions. I am the devil and a huntress but in all my name remains the same….” she breathes, confidence drawing up within herself as her sleek mahogany neck arches, ”I am Nyimara of Salem, Queen of the Desert. she continues with a smirk, ”And I assure you, there is no place for meek lambs in my wake.” The last word draws a sort of venom from her tongue as the image of the red mare Siobhan flashes through her mind. Meek, stoic, gentle, submissive Siobhan. A vile plague upon the islands and if it was the last thing she did Nyimara was determined to eradicate it from the islands.