Common

mazikeen

he mare seems amiable to Mazikeen's approach, introducing herself with a breezy laugh and a quick retort. The spotted queen's lips quirk into a half-smile. They have spoken but a handful of words between them, and yet Mazikeen cannot help but get the sense that they will get along swimmingly. All the better, she thinks, if she is to convince this mare to join her on Salem.

"Solzeren," Mazikeen echoes, becoming acquainted with the feel of the mare's name upon her tongue. The title does not inspire any explicit sense of familiarity within her, yet Mazikeen cannot swat away that pesky feeling that she might know her. "I am Mazikeen." A short beat of silence, the only sound the distant murmur of voices, and then, "Tell me, are you of Tinuvel blood? I knew a stallion there once who looked a great deal like yourself."

Would the mare know she was speaking of Fell? Were the similarities that she saw - or thought she saw - between them mere coincidence? Or had she, by some random happenstance, stumbled across another of her adoptive father's brood? What, if any, were her ties to Kohelet? A maelstrom of questions swirled within Mazikeen's mind, but she pressed her lips together to swallow back the numerous inquiries that danced upon her tongue, opting to wait instead for Solzeren's reply and the insight it would provide.