brennen, amet, iset;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails She doesn’t mind them interacting, letting their minds become distracted by the small things such as wings and scales; they are children, after all. It simply strikes her as odd how willing – how easily – a young boy can come to rule an entire land. He has ambition, a trait that she regards highly as he turns the table and tries to thoroughly focus on the political manner of their meeting. He grins sheepishly in which Nayl responds with an amused tilt of her head. ”Iset,” she tastes the name thoughtfully and her eyes skim the nearby hills and reservoir, ”will she be joining us at all?” Certainly she cannot allow a growing land to be held by an absentee Queen. The disapproval darkens her thoughts, but never reaches the fiery brightness of her eyes or face. Instead, she turns her attention on the continuing conversation. With deep calculation Nayl mulls over the information he provides, the goals he sees, and the tragedy he has experienced. Everything is taken in, memorized, absorbed. The boy is fairly open, but she can see that he still holds secrets beneath the surface, keeping them tethered to a murky abyss that he hopes to never relive. Nayl lacks a typical sense of sympathy. Her mind, her fist, is of iron. She rolls her shoulders and regards him in a sterner manner, but there is still a hidden softness in the depths of her gaze. ”Don’t let your past affect you. Push it to the back of your mind; you’re in a new place with new confidants.” She isn’t here to destroy them or to ruin them as they have once endured. ”So, tell me,” she hurriedly moves along as to not dwell or bring more attention to his history, ”how long will children be able to stay here?” But then a curious thought enters her mind. Shifting her weight, and without ever glancing to Castile, she asks, ”And what of you and Iset? What will happen when the two of you are too old for this children’s Neverland?” Nayl covet and myrina's creation