He has been busy as of late, the brindled stallion; scouring the lands of Helovia for the perfect specimens to bring back home to his brothers and sisters, as well as searching Helovia's Threshold for prospective Aurorans. He had found a few in his time spent there, promptly bringing them home to join the ranks. He could only hope that they would thrive and learn their place here, or even rise to the top themselves.

It was a rare day of respite for Crowley, simply spending the length of the day grazing and being otherwise lazy. Although he wished he could be moving at top speed all the time, his body, as well as his mind, needed a break every once in a while. It wasn't as cold as usual within the Basin, but it still wasn't as warm as the rest of the land. It was a comfortable temperature in his opinion, and for all he cared, he could stand to go on an extended vacation to enjoy it. But just as the thought began to settle within his mind, the sound of a sudden, explosive gallop snaps him back into reality.

Golden gaze lands upon the short dun as he races across the snow, headed for who knew where, with way too much excitement. The sight of the equine disgusts him, twisting his gut in hatred. Sadly, he was a regular face within the Basin, but he was to be untouched. A slave, he was, but not a prisoner. He belonged to the Princess, the Empress' own daughter. Crowley almost turned to move himself elsewhere, far away from the dun, when something else caught his eye. Was that... a Pegasus? It was the strangest one he'd ever seen, if that was what she was, but she sure as hell didn't have a horn on her head.

It came as no surprise to him when he saw Rapha come to a stop before the mare, speaking all too quickly, and much too excitedly. The way he spoke, Crowley might have wondered if he enjoyed being a slave. He didn't know. But his focus was now upon the golden mare, and with a grin slowly plastering itself upon his face, he turns, and begins to approach.

With a sharp look to Rapha, his ears pin back against his head, a clear look that told the dun to back off and leave the mare be for a moment. Removing his eyes from the slave, he turns them back to the palomino, and that trademark grin of his returns to his lips as he speaks. "I see we've acquired yet another able bodied slave," his accented voice curls, and taking a step closer, he inhales. She does not smell of the Basin as thickly as the rest, not yet, but he cannot place where she had originally come from, nor who she belonged to. Snapping his gaze back to her, he spoke again, his voice demanding. "Who is your master?"