No one expects an
angelto set the world on
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The spotted mare is quick to fill in the gaps in Kohelet's understanding, and her throat constricts at the knowledge that history was simply repeating itself. Perhaps in not quite the same way, but far too closely for the tobiano's comfort. The very last thing that she wants is for Mazikeen to fall into the same self-destructive habits that Solomon had fallen pretty too, especially when someone like Nyimara was still in play.
A war with her brought only heartache.
"You lead your own herd, then?" It is a question, in a way, but that does not change the fact that her words are warm with happy surprise. As deep as her misgivings run about the tidbits she has been told, leading ones own herd was an accomplishment that required respect. Though Kohelet had been Fell's lead mare, and then very briefly a lead of her own in the same land that Mazikeen now claimed, she had never found the idea of ruling alone desirable. Kohelet had always wanted to be a part of a team, even when her teammate proved he was just as falliable as everyone else.
Despite the sharpness of her mother's tongue and her sire's determination to make his mark on the world, Kohelet had always been content with the smaller things. To watch the herd and build the bonds between the members, to draw them in and keep them together even when the world was breaking apart. Her place had always been at someone's side, not at the forefront of a movement, which was - in part - why she had been so uncomfortable when righteousness demanded she leave the Bay in the first place.
"It is so good to see you, Maz." Kohelet echoes with a smile that is only a little sad at the edges, and she does not immediately elaborate on the open-ended comment the spotted woman left her with. In time, perhaps, she would share her rocky past and the chaotic decisions that had led her from one end of the isles to the other, but now was not the time. Better to not let a sweet reunion be ruined by sour memories.
There is a shift suddenly, so subtle that it is hard to catch and Kohelet is not entirely sure of the source. It's something in the way that Mazikeen looks at her suddenly, the way someone might right before asking a question they are not sure of the answer to. It tickles at the tobiano's sense of danger but she forces herself to settle, already suspecting what might come.
And come the invitation does, and with it, just as Kohelet feared, was a wave of emotion.
On one hoof, the very last place she wanted to be on all of these godforsaken islands was the Desert, much less a Desert only recently vacated by Nyimara herself. If Mazikeen did not already have a target on her back for irritating the silver-haired witch, she most certainly would if Kohelet appeared in her vicinity, given that it was Kohelet's claiming of the Desert and gifting it to Asmodeus that had allowed her chimera brother to usurp her throne initially.
And yet... what else was there? The Peak was the only other option she knew was safe, and Kohelet had never been overfond of the sisters, even after they'd temporarily sheltered her from Fell's wrath when she was still deciding where to go next. Plus, there was the possibility she could be of some use to Mazikeen. Though she doubted the fierce spotted mare needed her in so many words, she hoped that she could maybe offer some guidance, some knowledge, some comfort. If not that, then perhaps there were children, too, that Kohelet could devote her time to.
Something was better than nothing.
"Are you certain? Are you sure I won't be cramping your style?" She teased gently to cover her own anxiety and hesitance. Koh smiled softly, bobbing her head once in acceptance.
"If you're sure, I suppose I can endure the heat, so long as it comes with your company."