His second grin has more enthusiasm, and she can't stem the slight excited quiver of her flesh at the way he looms over her, his gaze intense. He's a handsome thing, and Nyx is a shallow creature who knows her way around a good-looking man. She likes them big, as big stallions produce big foals, and big foals tend to be stronger. She's no dwarf herself, after all.

Suddenly he opens up, like a great dam being opened to bring forth the crashing torrents within. As expected, the source of his ire is a mare - or, rather, a mare's new beau. Subtly, the silver winces. This is precisely why she has shunned monogamy to embrace a life of...not wanton sluttery, per se, but free loving focused around the creation of strong offspring. Yes, she thinks her lifestyle makes more sense, as only bedding men who best her in battle - usually her kings - means she only produces powerful foals, who will survive and keep her genes flooding into the next generation. Yes, she has a slightly scornful attitude towards couples, and yes, she has convinced herself that she is a woman in charge of her own destiny, free from the burden of a steady mate.

But there's a part of her that shuns love because she is afraid of getting her heart broken. Afraid of the weakness that comes with such yearnings of the soul.

The Glazier implies that the stallion who took his wife did not do so through entirely consensual means. Secretly, Nyx thinks that any mare who cannot fend off the advances of an amorous stallion deserves everything she gets, and that a man like the one in front of her could aim his sights higher than a woman too weak to defend herself, but she manages to keep these thoughts locked away. She does have some semblance of tact, even if it is occasionally forgotten. The rage in the man's expression and gestures is a sight to behold, and the ironheart has a sudden craving to see how he handles that big body in battle. She stands still, with a warrior's unflinching steel facade at the testosterone-fuelled display. "My advice would be to kill the colt and dance through the bloody wreckage, but that's probably not the most productive solution." Nyx has never had to be a woman scorned, so has little experience of emotions like jealousy, but she knows of stallions and their possessiveness. Bless them, they swagger around with harems and whores galore, but if their women dare to have a little piece of extra dick on the side, they turn into ball-swinging cavemen.

"This mare...is it safe to assume that you loved her?" And she manages to say that without gagging! She looks at him, her own features impassive; ice to his fire, iron to his malleable, potent temper.