Nyimara is no fool. She is all too familiar with the tests of loyalty and the bonds of friendship and how easily those can be severed without careful nuturing. Kara has always been a steady figure in her life, a silent shadow lingering just within the peripheral of the witch’s vision to provide presence and encouragement if nothing else. A body, a warmth in the coldest of nights when her suitors have slipped from her bed to warm that of another. Kara has not abandoned her like Shenzi or Bjorn or more recently Asmodeus…. But neither has the dappled storm-borne sought…. anything.
A child to share their bloodlines, a profession of devotion was beautiful, the elegant threads to weave into a glorious masterpiece and yet they still hung loose and unused before her hooves. To what end?So when the statuesque silhouettes of Kara and the wind-muffled voice of Sigrdrifa draw her gaze, Nyimara refuses to allow the wall to continue to build between them any longer.Purposeful steps draw her forward, Concave breast squaring as dark eyes fixate upon the older mare. A cunning smile ghosts evenly across her lips as Nyimara comes to a halt before them, stretching her velvet labrums forward to brush affectionately against Sigrdrfida’s solid shoulder in greeting despite her full attention remaining on Kara.
”You have something on your mind Kara…. I can see it in your eyes. Speak it now. You know how much I hate silent glares.” she murmurs, fighting against the destain that lingers in her voice. An open invitation. The calm before the storm. Time to see just how fierce these winds can blow…..