Well, that's one item ticked off the bucket list. Bed a warlord - and whatever comes from this little tryst, it's totally worth it.

Her body sated and her mind pleasantly buzzing, the silver happily notes that there's nothing quite like some sexytimes to ease the pain of her wounds. Unfortunately, once the initial aftershocks ebb away, the pain comes rampaging right back - with interest, thanks to the goliath's weight upon her back. She winces, but isn't overly bothered by the acute agony searing through each and every one of her considerable battle injuries. Again, totally worth it. "Well, look at that. It's not only your metaphorical sword that you're good with." She flashes him a wolfish grin, lazily flicking her tail to frighten away the flies that attempt to land on her sweaty body.

The ironheart notices that he moves to stand away from her, and frowns. She's not the sort of mare to demand post-coital cuddles, and, indeed, does not freely offer them either, but his sudden coldness is quite at odds with the heat from only a few moments ago. She knows men can turn off their emotions with the flick of a switch, but somehow she hadn't pegged the Wildfire as the sort to suddenly become standoffish after he'd got what he wanted. The clue is kind of in the name - the Wildfire. Even his voice sounds wrong, and for a moment she begins to fret that perhaps she hadn't satisfied him properly - she's never had any complaints before, but no doubt an ascended stallion has particularly exacting standards. After all, he could have any mare in Helovia, and perhaps he'd been expecting more from the stormy grey General.

No, that surely can't be it. Surely. She sighs, not quite sure how to continue - she's not the best at talking about feelings, although she tries her best. But there's nothing for it; she doesn't want this memory tainted by worrying that she's somehow offended her handsome lover. "Are you alright?" she asks, her voice tentative but infused with what she hopes is 'friendly concern' and not 'essence of nosy bitch'.

Gaucho fine. She almost rolls her eyes, but manages to smother the urge. "You don't look fine, handsome. If you need to talk about something....I know you hardly know me, nor I you, but you're welcome to unburden more than just your balls with me." Only Nyx could convey emotional support and vulgarity all in one sentence.

He points out that she's not okay, and she concedes that he has a point. Quite aside from her broken ribs, which seem to restrict every movement she tries to make, she's also a living bruise, and that's certainly not the best condition to be in should she become pregnant. She would not be able to defend herself and her unborn child in this state, and she dreads the thought of the weight of a foal pressing against her injured ribcage. Of course, she may not be pregnant, but....luck dictates that she probably will be.

He lifts his wings, and she sees flames erupt across them. At first she frowns - she doesn't see how him setting her on fire will make her hurt any less. But then she wonders if perhaps those flames heal...something she wouldn't have associated with a walking death-machine like Gaucho, but maybe looks can be deceiving. It's actually rather considerate, to possess a magic that can heal the wounds of his foes onces he's pounded them into tiny little pieces.

He demands that she come closer, so with a slightly confused whicker, she obeys. She shuffles forwards with difficulty (step ouch by ouch step ouch) until she's stood directly in front of him, looking curiously up at that beautifully-sculpted face of his.

He doesn't answer, so she does not push further. His secrets are his own; let him keep them, and she will keep hers. She is curious, yes, but she also knows a lost battle when she sees one.

The fire from his wings lands upon her, and it is like the warm kiss of the sun on a winter's day; it spreads across her wounds, and she exhales a deep, satisfied sigh as she feels the bruises receding back into silvery flesh. Even her ribs suddenly cease to throb, and as she gently wiggles her side she can no longer feel the broken edges of the bones grinding against her skin. "Thanks," she says, a tone of surprise in her voice at the skill of his healing. She looks herself up and down, but aside from the sweat coated across her flesh and the bloodstains on her hide, there's no sign that she has fought at all.

Damn, this guy just gets better and better. He can beat you up, then fix your wounds. He can take you to hell with his teeth and hooves, then to heaven with his caress.

Now her mind is free from lingering pain, it is capable of considering the enormity of what may have just happened. Even now, chemicals might be bursting through her insides, bidding a foal into life within her womb. Although she hates talking of such things (in case she isn't pregnant, and has worried for nothing) she thinks it makes sense whilst he's here, just to be sure. She does not want a repeat of the Reginald mistake. "If a foal should come of this..." She shuffles, awkward. For a mare so free with her voice, so capable of making filthy innuendoes and crude comments, she is remarkably embarassed when it comes to talking about herself falling pregnant, as though it's shameful for her womb to even think about creating a child inside it. "Would you like to be involved?"

She is quick to alleviate any worries he might have; she understands that he is a king, and a busy man. "It's fine if not, you've got no obligations. Just thought I'd ask, so I know." Ugh, cringe.

He assures her that a foal's likely to come, something she doesn't know whether she should be happy or upset about. She is still in two minds - she swore off men for life after the grey-eyed monster, but she loves the twins dearly, even if the entire Edge does not know they're hers. She wonders what her fellow Edgians will think this time around. As far as the herd knows, this will be her second pregnancy in around three years, which was pretty much the norm in her previous herds. She hopes they will understand that she will have to put her duties aside for several months until the child is born, and not hold it against her.

The Wildfire then adds that he was ascended by the Sun God himself, which sounds pretty damn good. Nyx knows little about the process or perks of ascended-ness, but she guesses it can only be positive. He points out that the Throat is hard to get to, but that his companion will find her when the time comes and he will grant her entry across. This is much better than she'd anticipated - she isn't adverse to raising children alone (as she'd largely done so with every foal she ever birthed) but a fatherly figure in their life is always a good thing (unless that father is Reginald - he can go fuck himself). "That's good to know, thank you. If nothing else, this should solidify relations between our herds." Such things had been commonplace in her previous homes - to solidify alliances, breedings were arranged that would mix the prominent bloodlines of both herds, thus ensuring a bond between the two that transcended anything else.

He adds that the foal will have many siblings in the Throat, and whilst some mares would react with disgust at this (those possessive hell-bitches that think every dick that ever enters their body automatically becomes theirs and theirs alone), Nyx is quite the opposite. A large, loving family....it's something she never really had, and something she hopes her offspring will. She had always been extremely close with her father, of course, but her mother's abrasive personality (which is a polite way of saying she was an absolute demon-spawed devil-bitch) meant that they were far from a happy family.

"That's good. They'll have a couple of siblings in the Edge, as well. Some by blood, some adopted." She nods, glad she'd asked the question. It has put her mind at ease that, unlike Oizys and Enyo, this child will not be loathed and reviled. It will be loved, and raised to greatness.

"Well, I'd better be off. Until we meet again." She flashes him a wink, before beginning to edge away provided he has nothing else to say to her.