Dark eyes narrow suspiciously as the crimson girl stomps past her with a huffing response. Despite her years on the girl, Nyimara has to resist the urge to nip at her rump in reprimand as she might have done to her own children. As much as she wanted to hurt Asmodeus, she also wanted to use this oppertunity to turn his own daughter against him and Marceline. Things were already starting off on the wrong hoof without her adding to that ever-growing list of grievances.
Gritting her teeth together firmly, she follows the younger mare out of the warm surf and onto dry land. Once she is beyond the reach of the foam-capped waves, the battle-worn woman pauses to shake the remnants of the sea from her coat and exhale a calming breath. She was home. She could relax a bit for now. It would be some time before Asmodeus would come for her; he too, would need to lick his wounds and calm a no doubt frantic Marceline into submission. That thought alone is enough to make the beast within her purr with pleasure.
’Where is Cahyr?’ The question falls from the girl’s lips with a heated edge that even Nyimara can appreciate even if it did make her skin itch with a desire to take her pound of flesh in retribution. A single brow arches as near-black eyes study the girl’s firmly set jawline and hardened eyes closely. So much venom and rage and hatred gleamed openly in those all too familiar eyes. Emotions that she had feasted upon years ago when Asmodeus had been the one sent to appease her wrath. Why the girl cared about Cahyr’s presence is of little concern and after a moment, the silver-haired woman finally replies with a roll of her shoulder.
”Cahyr’s presence is of no concern to you. However, since I am sure the news would greatly displease your father....” she spits the last words with a mixture of accusation and frustration before continuing on again.
”I have sent Cahyr to the Lagoon to train with the bachelors for awhile.” she finishes as if the news is of no real consequence to her. She would never admit to anyone just how much she missed the pale stallion or his father for that matter.Shaking her damp tresses, Nyimara continues on, restraining the beast within to let her silver web begin its work.
”You were born in the Peak were you not? Surely the shores must have been a huge adjustment for you….” she purrs, pausing to let her question linger between them before continuing on again.
”I imagine Atlantis seems like a foreign world when compared to the Peaks….” she continues, slowly ambling forward, a single ear tilted towards the mare in invitation. There is always more than one way to skin a queen.