Indeed!

The fifth limb upon which he casually rested before her had always been a pretty bonza convenience - both physically and conversationally, and Banjo nodded gently, before the loose flick of her own drew his bright eyes down. There was nothing wrong with the soft, flowing locks that she sported - not in a superficial sense anyway, but how could he have known her hair meant anything more than a glamorous fly swat. The silken tendrils that licked about her tall white socks were lovely in fact, more so than the common, oily browns and blacks back in the bush, and they suited the ebony woman rather well too.

Not so much the feather coat flanking either side of her glossy barrel… what was with that?

Before there was much of a chance for any further banter however, he and Lyanna were approached by another who had perhaps followed the sound of his original call. The more the merrier!

Their guest appeared at first glance to be a fairly modest and strapping fella with mostly white and black shading, and a blur of brown along his neck which seemed redder when he slipped beneath varying shafts of warm light - all simple enough. What caught Banjo’s (easily distracted) interest however was the sheet of… something, slumped about his shoulders. It was most unusual, like even that the skin he’d been born with had by some ill-fate been excessive; far more than the frame beneath needed. The horsaroo was drawn to it, wanted to touch it, but as a matter of politeness withheld.

The stallion’s long tail swerved behind him which in turn, distracted the buck from his rather good stunned mullet impersonation; greetings were being exchanged, and Banjo lifted his eyes beneath dancing corks to find yet another feature too intriguing to ignore. What could only be described as a dead snake, seemed frozen upon his face and though great effort was made to find those endlessly black gaze above it, he could hardly move along. Luckily the painted horse and the sheila had sense enough to continue normally - and the queerest looking buck (himself) listened with trained, oversized ears to the exchange.

Ashamin…

“…the Clovenheart?” he queried suddenly, pulling free from the ridiculous trance at long last. “Are ya crook?”

Soon after, two little deer emerged from the trees and drew nearer to Ashamin - their names were given at that moment, like they had some kind of bearing in the conversation; as though they were more than curiously stunted wildlife as expected. They would be glad to keep Banjo company? Mossy gaze returned to Lyanna, seeking sanctuary in her unfaltering expression, though he half wondered if she had a pet too, off hiding somewhere in the woods around them. Thoughtfully, she turned to briefly explain that World’s Edge was a herd - naturally he’d presumed that it meant what its name suggested, the end of the world (he had travelled far it was true!). It hardly sounded like a destination, not like those back home - Bullamakanka, or Yackandandah.

Horsey-lips grinned broadly, as they slipped forward to accept Ashamin’s nose in greeting, bumping it softly with a spray of blonde whiskers and velvet smooth skin beneath. “Well Lyanna, Ashamin, both’v you are tops and I’m mighty glad ya turned up.” He looked to each as at the mention of their names, glittery green eyes filled with gratitude for the help they offered. “So I… er…” His gaze strayed beneath the brown hat’s rim, from wing to dead snake as he tried to pick the least offensive way of asking, “your parents have some pretty quirky ‘wags’ too ay?” Because that was the most important question of all!

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Decoder | 'wag' = wives and girlfriends
Dress | cork hat on head, bandana around top of neck
@Lyanna