The silver-haired woman return to the desert had gone much different than she expected it to. Quinn’s disappearance was of no real surprise to her, the dark devil had long since focused his attention and time elsewhere. Had he really believed that she did not miss the other mare’s scent on his skin or the slinking mannerism that he had adapted over the years? However, he still remained a faithful companion and so Nyimara had allowed him to keep his secrets, well… what he believed to be secrets. His sudden uprooting the moment she left is of no surprise. Asmodeus however….
A secret smile tugs at the corners of her ashen lips as the minx contemplates his newfound authority. It was intoxicating, to say the least.When he had met her authoritative approach with hard eyes, her heart fluttered. Excitement coursed through her veins as he spoke, and she did not even attempt to hide the thrill of excitement that burned itself deep into her veins in the belief that this change in him… was all of her own making. She should be livid by the fact that he professes his claim of her as though she were nothing more than an ordinary herd mare. She knew she should be furious in the knowledge that he had taken up the crown of the desert and placed it upon his own armored brow. Yet somehow, it thrills her. The once sullen, lost boy… the heir apparent of the Cove given freely by his father had taken quickly to her whispers of power and promise and instead of slinking off into the arms of another as Quinn had done, Amsodeus saw the opportunity for what she presented to him and rose to the challenge. He had become a true king. But in becoming that true king she could proudly stand beside, she managed to fall from his favor, especially with Bjorn’s spicy scent still attempting to tether her to the dreams she had once cherished so dearly. She sneered on his whiskered lips and the flash of lightning in his eyes would be hard to forget anytime soon. It heated her blood and caused her inner beast to purr in pleasure. It was about time she found focus on a new challenge, especially now that Solomon was no more. That news alone had unsettled her. It was no surprise really, the stallion was old just as her father had been when he met his end. She should have met the demise with the pleasure she spoke of… and yet deep within her, the creature had snarled and hissed its displeasure. She had wanted to be the one to see his end. There was nothing that could be done of it now.With a shake of her head as if to rid the thoughts from her mind, Nyimara moved silently through the dense brush, savoring the rake of the stiff shrubs as they raked against her slender legs. The scent of the desert was far too faint on her skin for her liking and she wanted... No… needed to have the comforting scent envelop her once again. It would no doubt be the only thing to warm her bed for the time being, until she manages to mend those fences between herself and the chimera king. Languidly her steps propel her through the loosely gathered herd, chocolate ears bent backwards and head lifted in authority at any mare or stallion that dared to step too close. She might not have the official title of queen any longer but that did not mean she was not still a monarch in her own right.Asmodeus had done well for himself, the once small herd had grown substantially since he took up her discarded crown and scepter. Dark eyes roam the unfamiliar faces, memorizing them and storing them away for closer observation later. One in particular does manage to catch her gaze and hold it. A filly with her sire’s signature pale locks emerged from the dense foliage around the water’s edge and dipped her muzzle to the muddy surface for a drink. Small, fluted ears tip forward as she studies the girl for a moment without recognition. She was far too young to be any of the plethora of half-siblings the old wolf sired…. But likewise, she had not sired the girl nor did she remember passing any of her own daughters in her initial inspection of the herd. So where had this girl come from?Interest thoroughly peaked, Nyimara changes direction, wading through the shallow water’s edge until she is close enough to draw the girl’s eyes. ”Your face is not familiar here. Yet, you seem comfortable in the Desert….” she purrs, her long silver-white banner snapping slowly against her heels with an audible snap, sending droplets of water showering the disturbed water’s surface around her. The finely dished facade tilts slightly as her near-black eyes continue their careful scrutinization of the girl. ”Who are you?” The question hangs in the silence of the desert around them, commanding and inquisitive all at once. Patience has never been a virtue of hers but that does not stop the witch from at the very least portraying authoritative patience as she awaits the girl’s response with genuine curiosity.