Time was a slippery thing. It eluded his ability to quantify and grasp it, refusing to be slowed or altered in its flow. Asmodeus sometimes wished he could rewind the clock, although to what degree varied by his mood.

Would he take it back to the moment he had ended his father's life? Would he see any other option beyond what he had done? Or would he go further back, to before his father left his herd, leaving them all exposed. Before Nyimara had ever had a chance to take over the one bastion that had always belonged to Solomon, King of the North.

Would he go further, still? Back to the days when he and Ashteroth had been thick as thieves and twice as annoying. Back when the possibility of a relationship with his father had been a reality within his grasp. Or perhaps even further still, to his infancy, before he'd ever known a stallion such as Solomon existed. Back when his world was as simple as his mother and sister's faces and the vibrant green of his jungle home.

It was a silly thing to waste time thinking about, yet he wasted plenty of time doing just that. After a raucous autumn season, Asmodeus had quieted and grown distant. He hoped that to the other leaders of Salem it simply appeared as though he were biding his time and gathering strength, but he wasn't sure they cared enough to doubt his farce. Nyimara certainly wouldn't fall for it, but how much did that really matter?

Who cared if he was lying, even to himself?

His gaze darted across the ocean as a bright speck of white appeared, bobbing along with the surface. It grew closer and so did he, trailing lazily closer to the beach until the familiar figure of the Badlands mare suddenly appeared. Beside her was evidence of their bargain - all spindly-legged and soaking wet - and he felt something different twist in his chest, some emotion he could not name let alone place.

Asmodeus was neither sentimental nor particularly paternal. He had taken a role in Cahyr's upbringing out of a selfish desire to influence him, but he had no great desire to sire the sort of horde he'd grown up amongst. Last season had been unusually prolific, but he had stayed true to his own promise to only pursue mares that had already proven themselves worthy of his children. Mares that did not need him to protect the child, let alone them.

"I was wondering if you'd stop by," Asmodeus said conversationally, his gaze resting appreciatively on the svelte Badlands mare. She and her sister were both comely, but only one of them had held the power and notoriety to draw his attention in the romantic sense. He liked Xafira, but there had never existed anything between them in such a sense, merely a mutual understanding that she was a peace offering, and he the party obligated to keep it.

"Have you come to stay?" Asmodeus queried with a smirk, as if he already knew the answer. He supposed that if she had wanted to be here, she would have called for him rather than gathering up the child and booking it for the nearest border as if seeing him again was the last thing she wanted.

Adult Stallion 16.0HClassic Champagne ChimeraSolomon x Xiomara