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.