The antlered mare reveals that she is one of the Aurora Basin members and has taken the profession of healing. It becomes apparent to the hybrid that this small mare is the very opposite of himself. She seeks to heal and he seeks to obliterate, to destroy his opponents on the battlefield. Caleb, though primal and uncut, still understood the necessity of her job. He knew she would see horrible things and attempt to heal them away, and sometimes she would succeed. Other times, she'd be left wondering, If I had just done it differently, maybe that horse would still be alive. It is confusing and frightening to be a healer, yet rewarding in many ways. That is why there are more warriors and spies than healers, because being a healer is one of the scariest things. Did she regret becoming a healer? After a moment, she announces that she is new, too. He doubts he is as new as she is, and perhaps he shouldn't be categorized as new at all. But then again, this all seems pretty damn new to him. When he came here, it felt as if the world was moving in super speed and he was stuck in slow motion, desperately trying to keep up. However, now he finds himself going the same pace as the world around him, finally learning about the things he should've learnt right after joining. Large cranium shakes vertically, nodding his approval at her profession (not that she really even needs it).

Their conversation stalls as he thrusts his whiskered jaw towards hers, only for her to shy away. Steel eyes watch her carefully, debating withdrawing his muzzle and accepting the rejection. Yet something in her eyes, a flash of something, tells him not to, that she is fearful more than appalled, that if he waits she'll push her velvet snout to his. Eventually, she does. Her breath mingles with his, stirring together in a cloud of warm, ivory, mist. His spotless orbs are unblinking, locked in her gaze. Only now does he notice the allure of those thick lashes that hide her irises like a veil. When she blinks, those lashes swoop downwards like a pair of wings, hiding her vibrant gaze for a moment before parting and showing him once more these fascinating orbs. Those eyes glanced at him, unmoving, and ensnared him from that moment in a net of intrigue. The moment fades as she pulls away, leaving him to question the gesture, had a nose bump always felt so damn intimate?

Caught up in thought, he almost misses her name. She speaks much like him, quietly-- her voice drifting along with the current of the breeze, delivered in only that way to his ears. If there were no breeze, no wind to carry her words, would he still hear her? "Enna," he muses quietly, "is a lovely name." Gaze flits over her body, taking note of her ivory tresses that move like a silken banner, her sloping shoulders and small barrel, her hooves that split into two parts-- cloven, the way her coat fades into ebony at her legs and nostrils, and the effortless way her words leave her tongue. Her expression is pleasant, with an inkling of cordiality and kindness, while the soft glimmer of her lucid eyes betrayed the curiosity and the intrigue.

Her words ring into the cave and his ears rotate forwards to listen, interested. The dark titan had come for solitude, just him and his thoughts, but Enna was here now and it seemed all he suddenly desired was company. "Join me," he starts, side-stepping towards the wall, creating space for her near his right flank. He had created space, yes, but not that much space. Though he kept a straight face, inwardly he was smirking. She could either stand next to him, most likely about a half a yard away from him (close, but not touching), or she could continue standing where she is now. If she moves beside him, there was a good chance she'd feel his appendage on her flank, for Caleb would not just stand near her with no physical contact. Maybe though, she would love the feel of his soft wing at her flank, tickling her side, softly and carefully, beckoning her closer.