Whether its the lack of testosterone and its organs coursing constantly through his body, or if he would be as absorbed in Luin and her past with him regardless, Jaydan is and has always been, dense to anyone's persuasions. He can certainly appreciate the form of others, usually with an eye as to whether they'd make a fine warrior or not. He may glance highly at their colors, if they fancy him. Otherwise, the pull for romance, or perhaps something less romantic, is like a void in the gelding. At Xira's heavy gaze he only smiles warmly, his features turning rather boyish and innocent, though he's far from it.

Then the tension comes.

Xira is immediately off-putting as she lifts her head in a quiet but clear display of dominance. Jaydan's eyes widen with surprise, his lips pulling back into a soft, disapproving frown. Near him he can sense Kri harden to the movement as well, though he doesn't spare a glance at her, much as he might like. It seems much too childish to want to peep at two sparring mares, for sparring they surely are. Perhaps not as flashy as stallions that like to rip teeth at each other's knees, but Jaydan knows a fight when he sees one.

Mares, he rolls his eyes but barely, a low sigh whistling past his nose.

It is such strange customs here... where he came from, disrespecting a leader, even one unknown to you, was unheard of. Yet most where he came from were born and raised close by if not with each other. Here though, strangers come and go like the seasons, bringing new and old, same and different with them all the time. He shifts uncomfortably.

Her words aren't much better and Jaydan finds himself drifting away from them, his gaze ensnared by the falcon sitting abreast her. It is a wonderfully marked animal, and like any bird of prey he's seen, it holds an arrogance to it. He wonders if the mare has become too falcon-like in the company - it might explain her demeanor. Does she eat meat too, Jaydan wonders dreamily.

The elves in his homeland had falcons, but never the horses. The two did not much mix either, the falcons being with the hunter elves and he with the warriors. Sometimes they might pair up, but he knew little of them, only enough to respect them.

Kri acts little better in response and to that Jaydan is equally mollified. Her hard nature shows itself so eagerly and not for the first time the jay wonders if leadership truly suits her. She seems more like a gruff general, lacking the tact needed for these more delicate situations. But again, another place, another time, kings and queens here do not follow the same virtues and customs he grew up with.

As she moves away, entirely flippant and dismissive, Jaydan holds back another sigh. He turns his attention to Xira then, proffering another smile. He strides forward easily, for once his bad memories drowned out by the good as he recalls the customs of his homeland. Nearing Xira he stops short and extends both forelegs and dips his nose in a deep and courtly bow. His necklace shifts down and tinkles softly against his horn as he does. It is the height of manners, but he supposes he can be as fancy as that, with all the manners already thrown out thus far.

"Heil, stranger. I am Jaydan of Salka, of Helovia, son of Swall. Welcome to the Dragon's Throat." He speaks flawlessly in the high speech which is native to the lands here, but not for him and his home. All except the last word, Dragon's Throat, which his tongue is still getting a grip on. He knows bits of the high speech, but a greeting such as that he has perfected with due practice. "Heat puts us all on fire," he begins, hoping to excuse the manners of both mares with that expression, and smiling again to soften the implications of it. "Rest and drink to soothe, when suns passed, then talk of flock staying."

He hopes Kri will warm up to her over time. He does like the mare, her strength of spirit is something they could use, just not the disregard for authority, but perhaps that will be curbed with time. Surely Kri will not be so willing to turn a blind eye to an impudent filly? Xira seems young of body still, though Jaydan muses, old enough to know better. "Come, ease, tell of you and, bird?" He murmurs, leaning his muzzle out to her like a proffered hand ready to take hers and lead her through this kingdom. His breath blows out warm, though kind and gentle in greeting, before be begins to stride towards the stream where Kri drinks. He is parched himself and dips down to partake of the water.

He is always parched these days.