He is the one that mother warned against. He is the one that fathered Nayl's sister, the one whom she has never met. Mother has tales of Lokii tucked away in her memory with only some being relevant enough to share. Like an obedient child Nayl had listened but still yearned to rest her eyes on this tricky illusionist. Now that he is standing in front of her the cloak of the Boogeyman has been pulled away. He isn't as frightening as she had anticipated. Age is peppering his eyebrows and cheeks and slightly dulling his bruised eyes. With close precision she drinks in the sight of him and memorizes every curve and edge of his face. A coy grin stays visible on her velvet lips while her hip tilts casually. "Complimenting me already, sir?" Her head shakes slowly, enough to lift her forelock from her autumn eyes. "Slow down there, tiger." Nayl has never wanted to be like her mother; she wants to be better. Myrina was - is - weak. It has led to her turmoil and distress which Nayl has witnessed firsthand. Her heart ached for mother but she quickly realized it was because of how desperate Myrina was to be loved.
Love is such a folly thing.
There is love for family such as she has for her father, but not for a complete stranger that can leave in the blink of an eye. There's a reason for opposite sexes - procreation. When she mentioned that to mother she was told that was Echion's frame of mind; the girl laughed, comfortable with being similar to her fierce grandmother.
She blinks slowly and her brow lifts when their eyes meet. "Experience," she repeats thoughtfully, "is that what you tell yourself when your bones creak when you try to sleep? Not old, just experienced." There is venom in her voice but even then, that smug grin doesn't fade. She has prepared herself for this moment. She knew it was only a matter of time until they crossed paths or until he grew bored of mother and sought her mirror image.
"The tricky Lokii. Such a pleasure to finally meet you." The comment is spoken dryly. Her attention flickers away briefly but she feels his eyes burn into her, waiting for the gesture to be reciprocated. "I'm just a game to you so there's no need for names." She makes this grand assumption but holds steadily to it as though hoping that she's right.
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