His comment conjures forth a small laugh, curling her lips and brightening her usually brooding features. It surprises the two toned mare but she does not allow it crease her features. The woman prefers to keep that little tidbit of close to herself.
The dark eyes gather the way Dahmer moves. He is of rugged poise cut from rough silk, a lovely capture of tender aggression. Niko finds that she likes the way he rolls his shoulders, the way they bunch so tensely that it is as if his body is carved from hard onyx, if only for a second. She follows suit and meets his pace with a casual effort.
Careful senses feel the shift from frigid cold to that of tepid warmth that slides into the slippery grip of humid jungle air. Sulfur floats in a knotted tangle but Niko soon becomes use to the saturating environment. Dahmer's words draw away her currently occupied attention. She had been observing this new home curiously with a slightly tipped head and curiously amused expression. "It is lovely, my dear gentleman caller." The mare teases lightly back as an easy smile pulls her lips up in an impish grin. Niko listens as the dark stallions explains the land's leader and the lack of snow (Niko acknowledges this remark with a pleasing curt nod of her head as though she were a queen on a tour of a new country.)
"Well, there isn't much to say I suppose. I was born in Beqanna like most of the horses that live here." The brown and white mare gives a small shrug of her own. She prefer to leave out that fact she is born of a king and queen. Those little details were unimpressive and only sounded like petty attempts for recognition or respect. Niko prefers to be her own horse instead of riding coattails. Eyes move to meet where Dahmer's currently rest. "Your mare?" The question is asked innocently enough, nothing of probe or possession. She is just simply curious of this rather interesting stallion who has just plucked her from the field and brought their home.
NIKOLINE
You're flyin' high at push on, I'm feelin' hot to the touch