The heaviness in his companion's composure does not abate as they converse. It speaks to some sort of loss or grief or sadness that Asmodeus cannot place. Something similar had threatened to swallow him in the aftermath of Solomon's decision to trade away his son for peace with Nyimara, but he had refused to succumb. Not because he believed himself above wallowing, but because living with the silver witch had made any sort of self-pity lethally dangerous.

Asmodeus admired his absent Queen for a great number of things, but he had not forgotten how dangerous it had been for a time for him to show any emotion that was not carefully masked and portrayed as anger. She sought any weakness, any crack in his defenses, any gap in his armor, so that she might use it to wound him. It would not have been enough for her, Asmodeus believes, to simply keep Solomon's heir. No, she wanted more than that, and he had had to find a way to give it to her. That something, his proffered loyalty, had created a child between them that was now as lost to him as she was.

And he supposed he should be more upset about that. That his only son was lost somewhere in the world, tagging along behind his mercurial mother, possibly dead, probably corrupted. In reality, Asmodeus' commitment to fatherhood largely ended at the selection of the mares he opted to couple with. Unlike his father, he refused to coddle softer mares. He would never be the stallion to ply them with promises of kindness and affection and adoration unless he had a very, very good reason to lie. If they were near, he would do his best to steer them in a direction that would bring him pride, but he refused to hinge his estimation of his self-worth on the accomplishments grown from a few hours of enjoyment.

Hasan's comment breaks him from the direction of his thoughts and he hums in agreement, not doubting him at all. Salem was not a kind mistress to the uninitiated and he seemed a bit like a duck out of water here. "Once you get the hang of it it, it's not so bad." He reassures the other stallion, a lopsided grin touching his lips briefly. "I grew up on Tinuvel, so I promise if I can survive here, so can you." The only thing Salem and Tinuvel shared, after all, was that they existed at extreme ends of the spectrum.

His dark tail flicked absently at his hocks as he watched Hasan for a moment, contemplating his answer. "I was brought here a year and a half ago, give or take a few weeks." Asmodeus chose his words carefully, portraying a nonchalance he did not necessarily feel. "But it has belonged to me since winter." He watched the man for another beat before speaking again, probing at the mystery man. "Where do you come from, Hasan?"

Adult Stallion 16.0HClassic Champagne ChimeraSolomon x Xiomara