Piece by piece, Asmodeus was building the Desert into something better. He wanted this place to become something different from what the rest of the island herds consisted of. Something stronger, something more lasting than the traditional variation.

He didn't want his father's life.

He didn't want to be surrounded by twenty mares all clamoring for his love and affection, just waiting for him to tell each one of them how very special they were for just existing. Asmodeus didn't have the patience for such platitudes. He wanted something that prioritized strength and growth. Something that promoted a sense of camaraderie and belonging that was almost akin to the Lagoon's brotherhood, albeit without the rancid reputation.

So far, progress had been slow. A mare here. A brother there. But they were coming. Some were drawn by Nyimara's reputation and past, others by the strange mechanisms of the islands that bore no explanation. Regardless of how they ended up here, the patchwork stallion's expectations were high now that they had arrived. They needed to practice and grow stronger. He didn't particularly care if their strengths lay in combat or politics or recruitment, but he wanted them to grow stronger.

The Desert wouldn't suffer idle hands.

Movement toward the beach drew his gaze and his ears flattened as he turned toward it, water dripping from his dark chin. He made a movement to those near him to tell them to find somewhere else to be and then jogged toward the frail-looking creature standing on his beach. The man's painted coat did not endear Asmodeus to him, given that it was a hallmark of many of his siblings. His father had the irritating personality quirk of having bedded every willing womb on the five islands.

"You look like you've seen better days." He said by way of greeting, pausing a short distance away. The black tobiano looked desperately in need of food or water or a nap. Caution suggested he keep the man standing here until he answered a few questions. Most tobianos that Asmodeus had met bore some relation to his father, which presented two very different possibilities for this man. Either he was a potential captive to hold over Solomon's head, or he was a possible spy. He had a hard time believing the latter considering how worn down the man looked, but stranger things had certainly happened.

Or, least likely in Asmo's eyes, he was just some random painted stallion that had wandered to the Desert by accident.

"Why don't you come get a drink." He finally said after a long minute of appraisal. "You've reached the Desert. My name is Asmodeus." His gaze skimmed sideways as he turned, leaving a metaphorical path inland for the stranger. "Who are you?"

Adult Stallion 16.0HClassic Champagne ChimeraSolomon x Xiomara