She was quick to alter her path towards the thundering roar, thinking that an underground lake would be extremely helpful if that was, indeed, what it was. She slowed her pace to a walk, nostrils flaring as she detected a myriad of familiar scents, including that of her sire. With wide eyes the steel soldier continued to amble through the labyrinth of caves, eager to visit her father and ensure he had not been taken by the evil up above. As she rounded a corner she was greeted by a rather crowded cave, and her ears momentarily pinned to her skull at the notion of being in such an enclosed space. But the pounding falls nearby were tantalising, as was the prospect of spending quality time with Nato. She arrived just as a strange unicorn mare spoke to the black stag in a rather too familiar way, and a look of disgust flitted across Nyx's face. Tiny? Her father was an attractive man, there was no doubt about that, but still, the idea of him getting jiggy with a mare half his age was just too gross to contemplate - and pet names were a bit too close for comfort. "eww, are you hitting on my father?" she asked the woman through narrowed eyes. One pale pupil darted towards Nato - sorry, Dad, you've been cockblocked.

With one broad swing of her skull, the dove realised it wasn't just the three of them. She had failed to notice d'Artagnan (or 'mister sexy ass', apparently, which to be fair was quite hard to deny) standing there, so focused had she been on death-glaring the woman. But there he was, in all his glass-horned glory, hellhound by his side, and Nyx defiantly lifted her frozen gaze to meet his, picking up where they'd left off last time. It wasn't a challenge, but she was keen to see if his reaction would be as strong as last time, or if that had just been a one off. She was curious about him, despite herself - the way he had reacted to her had only intensified her desire to discover quite what it was about her that he didn't like. "and how are you, grumpy-pants? removed the stick from up your ass yet?" Her voice was playful, containing no malice or ill-intent; she wasn't the sort to cause conflict where none was necessary. With the evil up above, it really wasn't the time to make needless enemies.

She watched and smothered a wince as Nato aimed a bite at the other mare's quarters - well, that was slightly rougher flirting than Nyx liked to see, but who was she to judge? Or perhaps they weren't flirting, as there certainly seemed to be a degree of antagonism between the pair of them. She did not doubt Nato had been aquainted with other mares during their long years apart, but it was still strange of her to think of it, to consider that she may have other half-siblings somewhere that she had no idea about. As her sire moved close to her, the steel soldier shifted her muzzle to try and press an affectionate nuzzle to his powerful shoulder, a soft whicker of greeting falling from her lips. She was proud of the blood that ran through her veins; warrior's blood, king's blood. Nato introduced them both, and she decided not to mention she had already met d'Artagnan before - she was keen to erase that meeting from her memory. She was still deeply curious what it was about her that had caused the glass-horned man's change of mood, but she supposed it was to be a mystery that she would never solve.

She shifted her gaze to the pale-faced mare, who, to her surprise, didn't retaliate to Nato's nip. She wants the d, Nyx solemnly decided. Her ears pinned as the other woman began to guffaw upon learning Nato's name, and she resisted the urge to shut her up via a hoof to the face. Then she introduced herself and revealed her father wanted her to have Nato's child - say what? It was a strange system of betrothal that Nyx had encountered during her time in the wilderness; their leading stallion would often offer his daughters to the strong warriors of other herds, to create alliances and ensure his blood remained strong. But the silver woman hadn't thought she would find it here, too, let alone involving her father. "Who's Orvos?" she asked, head pivoting to speak directly to Nato. And why does he want you to bone his daughter?

Her already wrinkled muzzle shrivelled further as Quinn proceeded to mention Nato banging her father instead. "Thank you for that mental image," muttered the steel soldier, an expression on her face like she had just stepped in something smelly. Her ears flattened slick to her skull at the insults falling from the other mare's lips - that was Nyx's father she was so brazenly insulting, and the dove stomped an ebony hoof onto the stone ground with a resounding clack. "Oi, you could do a lot worse," came the iron woman's stern retort. She had always been a daddy's girl; she hadn't had much of a choice, given that her mother had made her every waking minute a misery. She idolised her sire, adored him, and did not appreciate anybody talking down to him. Taking a few deep breaths, the woman calmed herself before looking back to Nato, who had moved towards the underground falls. "Why would this Orvos want you to bed his daughter? What would he gain out of such a union?" In her old herd it had been done for the sake of alliances, but given that Orvos did not seem to be present in Helovia, Nyx could not fathom why he would decide to send his child on a mission to get impregnated by a stallion halfway across the world. There were plenty of strong men dotted around, why was it specifically Nato whose seed was desired?

She gawped as Nato idly suggested that Quinn be serviced by d'Artagnan, instead. For some rather strange reason, Nyx felt a quite unecessary stab of jealousy at the notion. She shot a sidelong glance at the glass-horned stallion, wondering if he was the sort who would bed anything with a pulse, and would gleefully take Nato up on the offer, or whether he was a more choosy kind of soul. In Nyx's vast experience, choosy was a term more closely associated with mares than stallions, who would quite frankly shove it anywhere that was warm and inviting enough. She looked instead to Quinn, who looked incredibly angry, and understandably so. Finding out your own father had sent you to fufill an ancient bargain couldn't have been pleasant, but Nyx found herself amused rather than sympathetic with the mare's plight. "A good hard seeing-to might help those anger issues of yours," said the silver woman, tones pleasant but cheeks puffed out in an attempt to stop herself sniggering. When in doubt, get laid.