The cerndyr simply shines with glee, and the star lit girl smiles down at him, nearly missing the way the Puppeteer glares at her. He burns fiercely, like an out of control wildfire, and she loves the way her dancing heels help spark the tinder that fills him, begging to be ignited. He is fire and she is ice; his heat causes her demeanor to chill, the perfect paradoxical reaction. She wishes to be hard edges and perilous spikes. She urges him on and he coaxes her, and together they hurdle towards imminent disaster.

She can't help but catch his wandering eyes, and though before she would have most likely snapped her teeth and reminded him to keep his bits where they belonged, she felt a sudden coyness envelop her. Sure, she would never, not in a million years, allow herself to fulfil any studly desires he might harbor, but what of her own? She had only known one in such an intimate way, and his touch had been gentle, and the results had been beautiful. But there was something raw and consuming about they way he looked at her, the vehement sparks that flew when they clashed, that makes her wonder, just for a moment.

Since last meeting Mesec she had been consumed by the blossoms that had bloomed, the warmth that had filled her, the overwhelming desire she felt in wanting to fall into him again. Her admiration makes her know that she would not smash the fragile thing between them for some cheap thrill. Would her decision be different if she knew he claimed another? That what they had created was no longer solitary, that more seeds been planted and had grown to fruition?

The Nightwind's hold on her kept her from falling into Rikyn's golden gaze. Still, she rolled her shoulders when she spoke, let her neck slope and arch ever so slightly, and allowed him to enjoy the thought of her however he wished. The attention made her heart flutter, and though she tempered her desires with her loyalty, the embers still smoldered.

"I see," she finally replies, shaking her sculpted head sadly. "But I'm sure many had their reasons for leaving. Besides, not everyone is made to belong in the Basin. The herd is probably better off. And who knows, some may drag themselves back to the doorstep in hopes of returning." Another smile dances upon her lips, a smirk dancing at the corner. "Though, I assume they'll just as soon turn and leave knowing that you're their proud king."

He speaks of the herd, and she listens attentively, hoping to hear of more than dissatisfaction of their appointed leader. But he spares many details, and the smile lessens. It vanishes completely, however, as he says nothing matters.

Ominous and dramatic, as always.

"What do you mean?" She tips her head, furrows her brows, wonders if he is trying to confirm the rumors that have been flying. She is sure to hide the fear that begins to creep up, reaching desperately for anything, the closest emotion, the nearest thought, to hide the discomfort behind.

She nearly burns herself upon leaping dancing flames.

"Everything means something," she says, the words nearly a purr. She shifts towards him, taking a single gentle step, looking towards him with soft silver eyes peering through long lashes. Her body sways, leaning towards his warmth. "You know things don't happen without reason. At least, I hope you've learned something across all of these years. Unless you're still as brutish as before, attacking innocent mares for reasons still unexplained."

A snake in the grass, unpredictable, wild, hiding beneath a field of flowers. Though uncharacteristic of her, to play such games, the world was coming to an end it seemed, and with the world burning, she just wanted to dance in the flames.