Our prince is not amused by his brother's harsh tones; indeed, he is hurt, but being a prince he cannot let this wingless, heathen mare see his discomfort. Still, a pale ear flattens against his skull, the other dangerously close to following. He turns to address his brother, vocal chords constricted so that me might whisper, a last attempt to maintain the dignity that Leliel seems so eager to give away. But he is interrupted by a strange sight, a disaster he knows he cannot stop. Even as his eyes widen the little two-toned creature contacts his brother's rump, followed, for some reason, by an angry songbird eager to attack Leliel's face. Our prince feels some satisfaction - that's what you get for trying to leave - and also further annoyance at this new intrusion. Still, this mare is a pretty little thing, and at least she has wings. Our prince arches his neck regally at her, laughing smoothly at her apology, silver eyes warm as they look her over. But she too is a heathen, he decides.

"Quite alright, my dear," he lies - under normal circumstances, perhaps it would have been fine. She was pretty; that made up for quite a bit. Presently, though, it could not make up for enough. He needed to go home, and bring Leliel with him. Our prince worried about his twin, despite the dark and brooding nature he found so dull. The elders would die soon enough; he did not see why Leliel could not endure and wait for this. He continues to look at the little mare, turning his gaze away only briefly as she names the black one - Mirage - and he wonders why she has earned such a title. They seem to be friends, which he supposes makes sense. Even heathens must stick together, after all. Our prince bows regally to Onni, his pale mane drifting lightly before silver eyes as he tucks his nose against his chest. Get lost, little girl. "A pleasure, Onni," he purrs, and glances at Leliel sharply to make sure his twin shows some manners. "Likewise, lovely Mirage." A debonair smile crosses our prince's face, a perfect composition of carefree regality. The Mirage mare replies with another name, which he realizes must belong to the gorgeous winged beast. A queen? It seems fitting, for something so royal. He dips his head again, his own silver eyes captured by the depths of her maroon. "An honor, my lady," he murmurs, and for once since coming to this wretched land, he is sincere.

Our prince is wrenched away from his calm when the beast takes off. He follows it until it vanishes, and when he returns to the mare, finds her gone as well. A blink, another. Well, fuck her. This has done nothing to brighten his mood, and he turns back to Onni, suddenly needing to be gone from this place. The sun is rising and the heat is oppressive; he loathes it. "Tell me, Miss Onni, where might my brother an I find some relief from the sun?" He includes Leliel, for he is determined not to lose his one point of familiarity in this abysmal land of harsh weather and vanishing dames.