No, the Basin had been stunning in its own way, but the iron lady has little desire to wander back into their lands and get herself lynched for trespassing. Yet she does rather wish to find Déodat again, so what is a girl to do? Her path brings her across the Frostbreath Steppe to the very edge of the Basin's territory, hooves crunching into the snow to cast glorious coldness up her legs, a pleasant relief from the merciless summer heat. She is alone for once; Dominus is off hunting, and through their mental bond she gets the sudden image of him inflicting misery on a poor unsuspecting deer. The thought draws a shudder from her, but she forces the picture aside and continues on her way. It is unusual for her to be away from her bonded, but he is a predator above all and needs to hunt - she knows he will be by her side like a furry white rocket should she need him.

Finally she can go no further without barging into uncharged territory, so there is little left for her to do but loiter awkwardly and hope the stallion appears. She is definitely keen to discover more about him, but her curiosity is not intense enough to overrule her respect of herd borders, which prevents her bouncing right in to visit him. Besides, who knows if he has any desire to see her again, because after all their meeting and co-habiting was simply a matter of convenience. Nyx stands, looking as casual as possible with a cocked hind-leg and flopped ears, hoping Déodat decides to come for an early morning stroll in her general direction.

But as the figure comes closer, it solidifies into the blood bay stallion. Nyx relaxes with a breath, her mind retracting from her white lion. "Déodat," she greets, horned head dipping in his general direction. What brings you so far north? "Ahem, well..." She shifts awkwardly, tail flicking against her flanks to dispell flies that don't even exist. "I mean this in the least stalkery way possible, but I was looking for you." Her plan had all been well and good, until it actually came to the crux of the matter. What did she have to talk about her cabinmate with? Tell me about your family? No, they were not friends, they were barely even acquaintances, so why in the name of Cinnoru had she come here to find him? What could they possibly find to discuss that wouldn't make the male think Nyx was on some creepy spy mission for the Edge?

"You see, I don't meet a lot of folk from other herds, and you and I have several things in common. Both bonded to white carnivores, both unicorns, and, uh..." Okay, a couple of things in common then. Her icy eyes roll at her own stupidity, half-expecting the man to snort and take his leave. He will likely think Nyx either a creepy stalker, a spy, or just a bit simple - or perhaps all three.

Realizing she's staring, the mare clears her throat and looks away. After all, staring doesn't quite back up her I'm-Not-A-Stalker-Honest narrative, does it? He speaks again, mentioning prejudices surrounding the Basin. Fortunately, he's talking to possibly the one mare in Helovia who knows next to nothing about herd politics. She has been out of the game for far too long, with little reason to keep track of alliances and enemies. Now she's back, and now she's a budding warrior, she realises she should probably start noticing these things. "What things do people usually assume?" she asks, her curioisity evident. She'd gathered that the Basin had a hint of unicorn supremacy about it, but she wonders if that's all Déodat means. He invites her to patrol with him and she doesn't need asking twice, shifting easily into a walk to fall into step beside him.

His question draws a pleased flicker of an ear from the silver soldier. "I am a Protector for now, however I hope to rise up the warrior ranks once I have proved my worth on the battlefield." If she ever gets chance to - she doesn't know if all-out wars are as common here as they were in Isilme. If she is forced to live off friendly spars for the rest of her life, she just might go crazy - she needs the thrill of real war. "What about you?"

He explains some of the things thought about his home, and Nyx listens with her ears jammed forwards in curiosity. "I won't lie, I did detect a certain air of unicorn superiority when I came with you to the Basin," she says, her voice honest. She and racism have an...odd relationship. She doesn't feel it herself, but can often understand why others do, even if she doesn't agree with it. Hell, she vividly remembers a conversation with Mauja where he explained his racism to her and gave her gory details of his murdering antics towards other species - she certainly does not shy away from racists. Especially handsome ones. "Do you share those beliefs?" It really, really isn't any of her business, but she cannot help but ask. After all, the lightning woman is curious bordering on nosy.

The blood-bay reveals he is a soldier but was once corporal, and Nyx's eyes practically glow with delight. So he is a warrior! He also mentions daughters, and for some reason she can't place, she feels a stab of envy. Imagine those daughters - strong, warrior-girls, able to be raised and moulded into little warbringers...It has been so long since she raised a child, she's almost forgotten what it feels like to train a youngster into stormy perfection. "You have daughters?" Her voice is neutral, but as curious as ever. "Can't say I'm surprised, handsome warrior like you. Those Basin women must stick to you like scabs." One ice-blue eye shuts in a playful wink. The soldier is not flirtatious, persay, but she is no stranger to innuendo and innocent banter - she's also curious how he will react. Is he the sort of stick-up-his-ass man who can't take or make a joke?

He seems to almost glow as they speak of his children, and Nyx gives a small chuckle. There are few things more endearing than a proud father. Very beautiful, but she definitely didn't get that from me he says - Nyx winks before she can stop herself, and words slip from her tongue before she can bite them back; "Oh, I don't know about that." She says it cheekily, but her eyes widen in horror as she realises what she's said. It's a true hoof-in-mouth moment, and if she could blush then she most certainly would. The worst thing you can do to a man is inflate his ego by telling him he's hot.

She hopes to quickly gloss over her faux pas, and he gives her a perfect chance to when he asks of her own children. A sad smile flickers across her blackened lips, another small sigh clouding the icy air. She misses her offspring terribly; when she'd gone outside Helovia looking for her father, she'd stumbled across several of them. They were adults in their own right now, with foals of their own. A grandmother at her age! They don't need her anymore, and part of the silver soldier misses having a young one at heel. It's been several years now, a queer change from her prime as a herd warrioress, when she'd had one a year, give or take. Whenever a new stallion took over the herd his first port of call would be to piss up the last man's tree, as it were, by ensuring he impregnated all the mares - Nyx had allowed this, as long as he proved his worth in battle first. "Several, yes. None of them are in Helovia, unfortunately." Imagine if they were! Heavens, Helovia wouldn't know what had hit it.

She looks back to the blood-bay with a curiously tilted head. "What of their mothers? I imagine they are strong unicorn warriors with steel hearts and fiery veins." She gives a small smile, imagining that Déodat goes for unicorn supremists to mother his children. She can't imagine him bedding anybody weak.

Her furious blushing subsides when he seems amused rather than angry at her awkwardness, and she manages a weak smile. "I try," she murmurs. What's more, he returns a compliment of his own, and she ruffles with pleasure. "Why, thank you. Under the tail it's not quite so perky, mind you." Again the words simply fall out without any coaxing from her, and this time she is ashamed. Oversharing much?! True as it is - because one doesn't push out five children and retain the lady-bits of a two-year-old - she didn't need to say it. "...you didn't need to know that."

Dominus chooses that moment to return, his white muzzle stained crimson and a deer's shin-bone clutched between his teeth. He presses against Nyx's legs, smearing her silver skin with blood, then settles down to chew on his bone and eye Déodat. She rolls her eyes and looks back to the blood-bay as he speaks of his children. By two different woman - the notion isn't surprising to Nyx. He is a stallion after all, and stallions are not monogamous. Not normal ones, anyway. They have harems, sow their seed far and wide, and the silver soldier sees it as only natural. The sight of horse couples make her skin itch. They aren't swans, to mate for life.

At his question, she chuckles. "Little man? Size matters, Déodat." Ah, the innuendo. "But no, I have no husband. I lived in a traditional herd, you see, where the leading stallion changed regularly and sired his foals with the herd's mares before being kicked out by somebody stronger." She sighs at the memory. "So I suppose you could say your second option is more accurate, and indeed, they had to be mighty. I do not allow myself to be covered by the weak - each king had to defeat me in battle before I consented to bear his children. Bedding feeble men produces feeble foals, whereas strong men produce strong foals." She is very much a survival of the fittest sort of woman, and it puzzles her that the Edge's two kings seem to show no interest in covering any of the herd's mares. Do they not want to create their legacy, create a herd of strong foals who will grow up to be loyal soldiers? Apparently not. Weirdos. "I admit I miss having a foal at foot, but I haven't yet met a Helovian worthy." Archibald had defeated her, but he didn't seem the sort to want to sire a child with a relative stranger.

His words have her ears pricking forwards, standing erect atop her storm-tossed mane. One hoof paws the ground in anticipatory delight - a spar? With this handsome fellow? "I'll take you up on that," she says, and is there a certain husky hiss behind her voice? Sweaty, slapping flesh, ragged breaths, blood pouring from bay and grey skin alike...her tail swishes and Dominus gives a disapproving growl in her general direction. She loves fighting, and the idea of fighting with a particularly attractive man..."And who knows what prize you'll get if you manage to defeat me?" Don't say that! But it's too late - her tongue races in front of her brain, yet somehow she's not even sorry. Who knows what she'd do if he bested her? If he proved his strength, his dominance, his power over her, as all men should...

She's damn near drooling at the thought of combining her beloved battle with something even more primal, and quickly shakes herself out of it. "Now?" she questions. Does he need time to prepare? Should they set a date? Her tense muscles twitch at the very thought, and her emotions sizzle down to her white lion, whose claws dig hard into the icy sod in bloodthirsty anticipation.