Common

mazikeen

ohelet seems troubled by the news that Nyimara is on Tinuvel. Mazikeen, on the other hand, cannot stop the flare of annoyance and anger that rises like bile within her throat at the thought of Nyimara in the Cove. She could only make assumptions as to Nyimara's motive for being there, and all only served to pique her ire even more.

It doesn't matter, though. Mazikeen is free, the Desert is hers, and if Nyimara needed to crawl to Warwick to lick her wounds then that is not of her concern. Mazikeen flicks her tail idly against her haunches and replies, "I'm not surprised. She probably needed somewhere to tend her wounded pride after I took the Desert from her." A cocky grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't expect to find the Desert nearly abandoned when I went back to Salem, but claiming it was an opportunity I couldn't turn down."

Though she does not tell Kohelet this in the hopes she will receive praise for her accomplishment, there is a minuscule part of Mazikeen that hopes the painted mare will be proud of her. Indeed, Kohelet's words ring true - she has grown up and come into her own, shedding the innocence and naivete of her youth. But even an adult occasionally needs the approval of their mother, and Mazikeen finds herself eager to know she has it even now, all these years later.

Kohelet's inquiry as to why she is in the Commons draws a thoughtful hum from her throat, her shoulder moving in an approximation of a shrug. "I simply wanted a change of scenery for awhile, I suppose." And to get away from her children for awhile - it was wearying looking after them, and she could feel her patience growing thinner with each passing day. "I'm pleased to have run into a familiar face. I often wondered what became of you after you left the Badlands. It's good to see you whole and hale. I am sorry to hear the Bay is not home for you anymore."

And she was. Even as a child Mazikeen had been keenly aware of how much Kohelet adored Fell, how at ease she felt within the borders of the Bay. Her distress had been nearly palpable when she was forced from her home, but there was some measure of comfort to be found in the fact that Kohelet had made her way there once more. Mazikeen is curious to know what has changed for her this time, but holds her tongue. The last thing she desires is to drudge up unpleasant memories.

Mazikeen's gaze shifts away, flitting over a group of giggling mares across the meadow before sliding back towards Kohelet. It would be easy, given their locale, to take on the role of the cocky young queen and lay claim to the mare before her. Mazikeen is not prone to fits of sentimentality, but she cannot deny that having Kohelet in the Desert would be a welcome change. It would be them against the world once again, like it had been the fateful day they'd departed the Bay side-by-side.

"Perhaps," Mazikeen begins, taking care to keep her tone neutral, "you'd consider accompanying me back to Salem? I'm aware last we were there it was under unpleasant circumstances, but maybe you will find it to be more bearable this time. I'd be happy to be at your side again."