He likes this place.  It feels... solitary.  Even though it is bounded on all sides by rocky slopes and cliffs the clouds that hug close the rim of the fields make it feel as if it goes on forever.  Despite the chill and the thin air, it makes him feel almost at home.  It is a massive, flat expanse, seemingly edgeless except for the dim, far off shapes of other peaks.  It is the desert but filled with life.  Too, the grass is sweet.  It is deep enough that he can practically bury his head in it and he takes a coltish joy in that, rooting through the grass in search of the most tender shoots.  He delicately picks his way past flowers, each hoof lifting high and being set down with exaggerated care, even when he cannot truly avoid crushing the beautiful blooms.

It is peaceful.  He remembers a time when he would take leave of his herd- not far leave, just over the next dune.  Far enough to take them from sight but not out of earshot of a guard's screamed alarm.  He had been lucky to have those he could trust to watch the herd in his absence.  

Not that it did any good against the jealous gods.

The white stallion lifts his head, shaking it hard to clear the fog of memories and the brief glow of sullen anger in his belly.  His ears flop comically and his short tail swishes lazily back and forth.  The sun cuts through a little of the cold, enough that he isn't freezing though it is still cold.  And he thinks himself alone until he hears a laugh carried on the breeze, soft and feminine.  He stills, a toy horse made of spun glass.

Curiosity drives him into motion.  His long legs stretch into a slow amble, a motion that shouldn't be graceful but somehow almost is.  His head is low and relaxed, held barely above his shoulders.  It rises a little as she comes into view, and his rose-tinted eyes watch her inquisitively.  He stops several lengths of his long body away from her, his momentum taken up in a few mincing steps at the end.  He stands with hooves too close together for his size.  For all his height, something about his lean-ness and his posture makes him seem somewhat smaller.  Unimportant.  Non-threatening.

"Good morning."  He dips his head in greeting but the movement carries through to a slight bend of his bony knees, dropping his narrow shoulders a bit low before he rises back to his initial position.  Except his head continues to rise a little, betraying his interest.  Despite his initial plan to enjoy solitude, the promise of pleasant socializing draws him like a fly to honey.  One can only value solitude when one has lived without it.  Too, one only learns to value the company of others after being too long in solitude.

She is tiny compared to him, no matter what attempts his makes.  The distance he leaves between them is not just for his sake- he is forever jealous of his personal space- but for her's.  With such distance between them he hoped that she would not feel as though he looms over her.  She might shimmer with the droplets of fog caught in her sun-golden coat but he too shines, mother-of-pearl in the sun.  Lower down, on the ground, he might be ordinary compared to the other denizens of Helovia but up here they are both the stuff of dreams.

@Zyanya