It’s as her eyes are wondering that Nayl glimpses Marlyn. They haven’t yet met, the scents as unfamiliar as the sights. She regards her with a mere glance at first but says nothing as a breeze tousles the overhead leaves, bringing everything to life for a fleeting moment. The canopy steadily holds Nayl’s attention until the mare slips out from behind another tree and closes the distance between them. Only then does the piebald lower her gaze from the treetops so that she may drink in the sight of whom surrounds her (the stallion doesn’t go unnoticed in all his stealth). The tranquility of the land has bled deeply into the residents, or so it seems by the serenity that engulfs Marlyn’s mannerisms. She doesn’t introduce herself, but nonetheless Nayl is welcomed into their home.
”Hello,” she responds, subdued by her uncertainty although it still remains masked by an air of confidence. Her eyes, beautifully the color of fire, sweep across the mare before sifting the trees to find the male. A mere nod acknowledges him, but her attention returns quickly to its origin. ”I’m merely coming for a visit,” her head inclines slightly and the corner of her mouth turns upward into a small grin. ”I’m Nayl of Nerine. I’ve been wandering this new Beqanna to see what lands lie outside of my own borders,” her admission is spoken with her interest beginning to peak, her eyes lit by her curiosity. This is one stop among many.
Nayl slowly reaches back to scratch her shoulder, taking comfort in having trees surrounding her again. Although it lacks the humidity of the Jungle, it’s at least more reminiscent of her last home in comparison to Nerine. ”Tell me more about Sylva,” she wants to know everything about each of these lands, ”and who you are.” There is a hint of ice in her voice, a hardened gleam in her eye.
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