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The sound of her approach didn't pass him by. Hooves on dry ground had never been very subtle, and this one didn't seem to even attempt sneaking. As she strode cautiously into the clearing he could smell the caution that emanated from her pale form - a rather unsuitable coloration, by the way. The white hairs that covered her body seemed to attract the light of the sun, causing the horse to shimmer and gleam in a most revealing way. Perhaps she wasn't sneaking because she knew it would be futile. With a coat like that she would no doubt give herself away like a beacon would in the middle of the night, like a trumpet blast at dawn. Or perhaps she was simply unskilled in the art.
She addressed him, but the noble griffin payed her no heed. He continued his preening, aware of her presence but holding little interest in honoring her with a response. It was such a trivial matter she was addressing too. The weather? Please. Everyone with eyes in their head could see that he was doing perfectly well, even despite the thick fur and black feathers that were more suited for the cool darkness of the night. It wasn't even that warm, not in comparison to the moist heat of the lands he had been raised in. There it rained several times a day, with temperatures that soared until it felt like the air itself would begin to boil. The trees that surrounded them here would have been naught but foliage covering the ground, seedlings from the soaring giants that stretched elegantly towards the light of the sun. He remembered the vast greenery that stretched out like a vivid ocean beneath the drifting cloud. He remembered deep valleys and steep mountains that surrounded them, in a landscape that was as ancient and feral as the beasts that called it home.
Reminiscing nostalgically, the black beast finished the last of the feathers and folded the wings neatly against the back. When he looked up, he was surprised to see the horse still there. Had he been that quick in the cleaning, or was she the stubborn kind that waited even while rudely treated? Sharp yellow eyes blinked slowly as they turned to her, brilliant and unsettling in their sharpness. He confessed himself to be impressed. Patience was rare these days, and such persistence almost needed a reward.
"One would think that the stone-feet would have better things to do than to wait around in forests" he remarked, the golden stare piercing and direct as it looked the horse over. His voice was dark and deep, and the accent he spoke with peculiar. It was as if he was biting off the words at the end, the consonants sharp and accented. With an elegant motion he stood, graceful darkness in predatory perfection that almost reached the mare to her chest. He was big, more than capable of injuring her gravely if he so wished. But for now he didn't seem interested in turning her into a midday snack.
"Since you are simply standing there anyway, you may provide me with information. Are there mountains in this area? Are they habitable, and have someone claimed them as their homeland?" There was no need for greetings, because this pale wingless grazer had not made herself worthy of knowing his name. Neither did he feel a need to remember the one she had thrown at him so casually, as if they were equals and old acquaintances. In his demeanor it showed clearly that the eagle-headed beast thought himself more important than the mare; at the very least there was no hint of respect or politeness in his words, and the way he waited for her reply was somewhat impatient.
Rymn
Awake, listening to the voice of my heart,
I precede through the Pandora world
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