The silver-haired witch is not sure whether to find the sprawled across his face infuriating or curious. There are not many who would dare to cross the boundaries into the Desert and even fewer who recognize her as someone not worthy of apprehension. Not to see it upon this unfamiliar stallion is… concerning, especially after her last encounter with Asmodeus and the haphazard remark of his.
Near-black eyes narrow suspiciously as ash-dusted lips press together in a firm line. Small, fluted lobes tilt forward amid the wind-swept tangle of her silken threads as his lilted tones break the barrier of silence and suspicion that has built itself between them. The suave grin that slides effortlessly across his handsome features is met with a Cheshire grin of her own as his question calms the tension and invites her into yet another smooth game of cat and mouse. Pale lashes blink slowly over dark ooids as an almost impish laugh colors her response.
”And here I was assuming you might enjoy the feel of my teeth against your skin. … disappointing.” she purrs, flicking her unusually long whipcord flicking idly across the womanly curve of her mahogany hip. Casually he mentions a sister that lived here, a sister who supposedly ruled and that little fact alone is enough to perk the witch’s interest anew. There has only been one other queen on Salem for years now and although it has been some time since Marceline’s disappearance and remarkable survival, there is no doubt in Nyimara’s eyes that this spotted stallion could be referring to that damned woman. Her rival in all sense of form.Anger reignites within her at the very thought of the red queen as the mask of indifference begins to waver upon her delicate features. The suggestion that Marceline might ever rule over her is quite a laughable offense indeed and one that easily slips free.
”The only other mare who ever thought she could rule over me died long ago and in far more destitute a situation as these might appear to you.” she coos with honeyed words. The coquettish smile wides across her exotic features as she exhaled a soft breath and took a step towards him, closing the small distance of space that separates them.
”If you are familiar with the name Marceline… then I am afraid you are mistaken, stranger. She held no power here.” There is a finality to her words that leaves little to question, however true or false they may be. Sleek serpentine arches elegantly, as the pale-haired woman cocks her head up at the stranger.
”If you seek her redemption, then I am afraid you will find no friend here. I loathe the woman as much as the grasses loathe the sea.” she bites, pausing to let the words settle between them before continuing on again, circling close to the dark colored beast to let her heated words lay heavily across his flesh.
”She never did mention a brother, though…. So do tell me who exactly you are and what business you have here? she finishes resting her unreadable eyes once again upon his own.