This girl is a gun, before you know it, it's done
And you'll be wishing that you crossed your fingers

arceline does not allow herself to linger in the Hills for long. She desires nothing more than to stay by Senu's side, to bask in the brindle mare's presence and let herself be at peace, if only for awhile. But there is far too much work to be done, plans to be laid, family to retrieve. She has heard rumor that Evrain is living somewhere on Luthien, and though their relationship had always held a certain measure of tension, she would not leave him behind. Draco had also informed her of one of his mares who had been snatched away to Tinuvel, and requested her aid in retrieving her. Marceline would happily oblige him if it meant deepening his loyalty. She needed all the support she could get if was to bring Salem under her reign.

It is to the west that she looks first. To the Dunes, where Lucifer's now familiar scent seems to linger. The black brute's offer of aid in the Commons had been unexpectedly generous, and though in the end she had not required his assistance to locate Oberon, Marceline cannot help but wonder if he would extend that generosity to her in other, far more subtantial, ways.

There is a practiced ease with which she skirts the Desert, unwilling to draw Nyimara's attention just yet. She's sure the witch queen has heard of her return, has smelled her saccharine scent upon the wind, but there are pieces of the puzzle that must fall into place before she can risk drawing her adversary's attention fully. Marceline feels an anticipatory buzz at the back of her brain when she thinks of going head-to-head with the Desert queen once more. Her time in the Shore had made her mellow, the tropical winds wearing at the harsh edges of her until she was but a shadow of what she had once been.

But Asmodeus' disappearance had sparked something to life inside her. It had reignited her dormant desire to pursue power, to hurtle herself to the top of the Islands' hierarchy. She had trusted Asmodeus to see their shared dream realized, but in hindsight she had been somewhat of a fool to place her hopes and ambitions on the shoulders of another. She had come to rely upon Asmodeus to give her what she wanted and she had become complacent because of it. Now, with him gone, it was up to her and her alone to achieve her goals.

A little help from would-be friends never hurt, though.

Marceline halts at the edge of the Dunes, her nose raised to the cloud-covered sky. She is careful not to encroach upon his territory just yet - it would do her no good to trample all over propriety and risk losing him as an ally.

There seems to be no sign of the Dunes king, aside from the thick musk of him that hangs in the warm winter air. He is here, somewhere, of that she is sure. Tossing her head skyward, Marceline looses a shril whinny into the air to summon him, and then settles in to wait.