Nyimara is intrigued. Where most would bristle at the bugle of challenge that rang from her lips, the strange, spotted stallion appears almost relaxed as she comes towards full of fire and fury. The tilt of his head and the strangely beautiful glow of his eyes set her loins on fire. She wants to press against him, to reach out and claim him as her own and yet she shies away from such decisions. It had been her loyalty to Bjorn that had turned her heart to stone and the disappointment of his near constant disappearances and constantly roaming eyes had taught her a valuable lesson. Stallions could not be trusted.

The wolfish grin on his face is alluring…. Contagious. A mischievous smirk draws the corners of her own ash dusted labrums upward and the tension begins to ease itself from her muscles. ’Both..’ he says and this causes her small ears to flicker. It seemed almost odd for him to not only suddenly reappear on the shores of the Dunes, but to return with the intention of staying it would seem. Not just staying, but not even attempting to challenge her claim to the Dunes. Suspicion glitters behind the dark gleam of her eyes but still her body remains at ease. She thinks to say more, wants to question his intentions but despite herself, she finds her voice stolen from her lungs.

She assumed that the forward manner in which she reached for him would set him ill at ease. Hoped to see the confusion and suspicion light his own eyes and cause him to linger on the edge of uncertainty. Instead, he reaches for her. His spotted lips trail a path along the line of her cheek and to the curve of her throat were his ivory teeth tug gently at a straying strand of her silver white mane. Renewed the fire of yearning burns through her body as hungrily she leans into the touch, letting his cool lips press into the darkness of her neck. His thick baritones whisper against her skin. Dark ears follow the sound of his voice. ’Joachim….’ the name lingers on her tongue. ”Joachim…” she purrs, her sultry tones tasting each syllable as it slides past her lips. He wants her name, the inquisitveness in his voice clear. A light chuckle vibrates from her petite breast as she leans into him. ”I am Nyimara, queen of the Dunes.” she says careful to place just the right bit of emphasis on the word queen, in case he was not yet sure. He called himself former leader and a knowing grin slides across her lips and her head nods briefly as he suggested that she had already figured that part out.

Yes, she had not forgotten his scent. It had been stale then, but still the same flavors clung to his skin now, sharpened by the salt of the ocean and the beating of his heart. His eyes seek hers as he asks if she is alone and the silver haired witch cannot help the coy batting of her dark lashes or the way her small figure pivotes towards his own. A cheshire grin slides into place, causing her eyes to glitter. ”Not anymore.” she purrs, flicking her long tail towards him before turning away, bumping her hip against his side and stepping back onto the shore. ”Walk with me?” she invites, arching her neck proudly and fixing him with an almost expectant gaze. ”I would love to hear more about you…” she continues, ”Especially what brings you back to the shores of the Dunes.”