She took her time drinking, but it did not concern him. He was in no particular hurry, and besides, the morning was far too fine to waste with stress and impatience. Instead, he allowed the silence to stretch for as long as she wished it to; his gaze wandered across their surroundings, observing the play of light and shadow and how it dappled the green... The shimmer of sunlight upon water, how it made the soft curvature of her back shine golden. If he was a fool and believed that the soul matched the appearance, he would've thought her an angel, or at least something of utmost kindness. A small smile curved his lips at the thought. If such things were true, then he would be heartless and cold only — without the warmth he sometimes showed. Without the soul he actually owned. And just as there was good in him, surely there existed something of evil in her. He had found that no one was truly black nor white, they were all different shades of gray.

Yet some seemed to defy the rules of monochromatic view altogether. Surely Lena was some bright color.

Not long had passed until the stranger was done drinking, sunlight glimmering in the droplets falling from her maw. Respectfully he raised his gaze to look upon her face, the same look of open warmth displayed on his alabaster visage. Andreas, he repeated to himself, storing the name with her looks and scent somewhere deep in the labyrinth of his mind. Her golden gaze had narrowed, and in response to that he gave his head the slightest of tilts, and raised one 'brow. Had he done something to offend her? What? "Can I help you?" she asked, and he nearly laughed; instead, he just smiled a tad wider. This was probably the first time someone had asked him if they could help him; usually, it was the other way around. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Andreas," he said, watching as she drew closer. Perhaps this meeting wouldn't turn out to be a pleasure, but he couldn't know in advance. Upon his shoulder Irma shifted slightly, settling her wings more comfortable against her sides — otherwise she remained impassive, watching Andreas with cold, expressionless eyes. The owl seldom interacted with the equines around him, for she found no reason to. Just as he was about to speak again, to ask of her brother and her needs, she beat him to it. He turned his head slightly to look with his own eyes upon the snow-colored bird for a moment.

"She's learned to be careful, but whenever she digs in for balance.." He gave a small shrug. "Then it can hurt." Being a bird of prey she did not have the smallest of feet, though their size was largely hidden by the white feathers padding them. Unfazed by the attention Irma just sent him a trickle of vague amusement. "If you don't mind me asking, who is your brother? Perhaps I know of him." And perhaps he wouldn't; he had been gone for some time, after all, and Helovia was an ever-changing realm.

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