Argetlam is not quite sure if the silences are a good thing; a reprieve from the mare's cool, harsh vocals and slightly mocking way, or a bad thing, impoliteness and a lack of cordiality. His tail, hair stiff and matted into the appearance of coarse straw, flick up to brush his flanks, the quiet whap of his thickly knotted tail interrupting the lazy silence stretching what seems like an eternity between the two of them. Ailith rested herself, relaxing her haunches with her tranquil cat-like grace; the dark stallion might even describe it as predatory grace, he wasn't quite sure he liked the way she moved.

It was... sexually appealing. And he wasn't... a sexual stallion.

Yes, that's how he would describe it, the dapple decided. His resolution was only confirmed by the slow, excruciatingly slow, blink of her long-lashed lids; slowly shutting over violet eyes that sparkled magenta. Or maybe it was the other way around. Her tones still lazy, still easy as ever- but did he imagine the mischievous glint, as if she had picked up on his discomfort, or was he imagining it- and flashed open as she spoke about the wild hills and forests she had come from. Nowhere, in other words.

"I traveled for a good while myself," Argetlam quietly said, and he had quite a bit, trying to settle into a place where all was peaceful and quiet, somewhere accepting of him and his sometimes strange ways. Did she have family? Did she miss somewhere, someplace she used to call home? The crafter did. He missed Isdira's irritable, gruff ways, Ignasia's bluntness, and Arya's soft, encouraging words. Regardless of all of their differences, they were family; and he had still abandoned them like a coward. Was it cowardly of him to fly? Hadn't he just... did what was right? Either way, he wouldn't be allowed back there. Not just in a week, or a month, or a year; but never. In a way, he had committed himself to his own exile.

"Let's walk- it may keep the flies away." Argetlam suggested peaceably, and turn hesitantly, before setting his legs forward and continuing his ambling, slightly wavering path between the trees, into the pools of molten sunlight glittering on the green fronds of the forest floor. It was a gentle push towards acceptance; a sweet, innocent act of 'let's get to know each other'. At least, the metal-bender hoped that's what it was.