Ubaya’s ravaged face is calmly accepted, cherished even, for it adds to the stallion’s dead appearance. It doesn’t seem to bother the pegasus at all, and Slaiter wonders childishly if he was born with ruined flesh, and if that was why he wore a mask of bone. Shrugging aside the thought, he instead focuses on staying still while his new friend slips a skull over his head. As soon as the helmet is in place, he trots around in a circle, pleased that it fits well enough that it doesn’t slide. He grins back, the expression looking fierce underneath his macabre adornment.
Ears prick as words reach them, drinking in the creature’s dark voice. “No, not Grey. I’m...umm…” Unable to remember the exact name, Slaiter pauses, racking his memory for the place Faelene had talked about. His face lights up as he remembers. “Frostbreath! I belong to Frostbreath.” Having chased a butterfly and ended up on the other side of Helovia, the ghoul was unaware that the herd relocated, blissfully believing them to be in the same place he had left them. Eyes gleam with excitement, and he gives a small buck to release some of his boundless energy. “Nice horses. Faelene. Want to meet?” He didn’t know that all of them were nice, having never met any other members of the Ex-edge besides the black mare, but to his mind, if she lived there and was nice, everyone else must be too. Head tilts quizzically to the side, wondering if maybe Ubaya could live there too.
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