They will look at her now for answers, for guidance, for power. Nerine has been in a deep slumber, but it’s with her ascension that it will stir and it will flourish. Confident, Nayl looks away from him to see more of the landscape and more of what she will rule. A gut feeling stirs inside her and instills hope that she will rise to greatness, but it will not be alone. Every king, queen, or council needs their home – the populace – to thrive in order to find success. That, unfortunately, is where the shortcomings stem from. There are so few here, but with time more will arrive (she will see to it).
Nerine is not lost and it won’t sink further while the crown sits on her pretty head.
Perhaps that is why she unravels in front of him and why her plans open in front of him like a book desperate to be read; Nayl is confident. It will take her energy and soul to lift the herd from the shambles, but she will prove this place fruitful once more. There will be doubters such as there were for Naga and there will be supporters. Horses scaling the spectrum will stand before her and voice their opinions and Nayl will listen, but not always oblige. She is her own identity and not a puppet for them to influence and control. Every brewing thought and scheme is buried underneath layers of steel and rock, untouched by groping fingers and prying minds.
And so, with her ideas and her speculations for the stallions, she is pleased to hear that he will be staying. ”Good,” she replies tersely as a brow coyly lifts, ”Although you still have yet to even tell me your name.” She had almost forgotten how foreign they are to one another; conversation seems to come easily between them. His mannerisms and the inner hunger he has (it calls to her, but she doesn’t yet know why) lures her and holds her attention in a way she’s never before experienced. For a fleeting moment, she considers asking him a question meant for someone she has known longer, but she reconsiders when she listens to his question. It distracts her from the idea of filling ranks to instead creating them. Considering no one holds any prominent titles the slate is practically blank and ready to be melded into what she wants.
Ideas rush into her mind like flooding waters and she looks at him thoughtfully as she tries to piece together different formulas. ”Still under construction,” she admits because she hasn’t had much time to consider it, but she has a broad and general view. ”There won’t be quite so many ranks seeing as we don’t have enough residents to fill even one. If they really want to be storytellers then they can be the only two in their own special position – there is no need for ranks just to reminisce of the past.” Here, she coldly chuckles and shakes her head. ”Perhaps have a small division for soldiers – all just grouped together with a general. Those interested need to at least partake in a battle before actually being considered a soldier. No one will automatically become a part of this land because they want to. They have to earn their place.” A pause allows her to take a breath and to reconsider his opinion of the armed forced (if they can even be called that) and she smiles airily. ”Not an army in preparation for war, but obviously some women need to learn to fight.” Here she looks toward where Naga was last seen, the pacifist Queen. Not having skill in warfare helps no one and nothing. Their reputation has always been as warrior women, not pushovers.
Lifting her head, she still mulls everything over and tries to grasp what may very well happen and come to fruition rather than being a mere figment of her imagination.
But she isn’t in this alone; they are a group. She will listen, but won’t always oblige.
”And you? What would you want to see in Nerine?”
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