The apology was missed in the concentration that it took to send, but Wilibald would not have been able to begrudge the interruption for very long. Especially once he started talking! He had not expected to find someone so polite and he could not have stopped the delighted, shining smile from appearing in his bright eyes if he had wanted to. He dipped his head in response to that made by the patched stranger, a tingling sort of joy going through him. Proper conversation was as wonderful as a nap, as a good meal. “Well met, Midas, son of Tharos.” It was pleasantly noted that the syllables of these names were easier for him to manage than those of Slaiter, son of Azombie, had been.

To the question posed, there was a moment take to reflect on that. He supposed he was, but it was never a label that Wilibald had rather liked. It spoke of homelessness, lack of belonging and change. Despite the fact that he was clearly experiencing a great deal of change (completely new land and all) but he rather looked forward to a future where that stopped. “Yes, but a reluctant one.” He admitted finally, after the moment had passed, before explaining further. “I’m not made for travelling though I took up this journey of my own free will. I’m seeking a home so I can live in some sort of security while this restlessness and adventure-seeking is followed through.” He spoke of restlessness as though it were a disease and he simply needed to wait for it to pass - because that was what he certainly viewed it to be. Restlessness led to problems, every pony knew that. “But I don’t know enough about this land to know what a suitable home would be.” It never occured to him to give a simple 'yes'.

He had been led to this meadow because he had requested a meadow, but what lay beyond here and the dreary forest he had been found in by Slaiter, he had no idea. The idea of just wandering about willy-nilly rather frightened him, and relying on the information of strangers was far preferable. Funny how that worked.

“And what of you, Midas? Are you a fellow traveller or have you made your home in this land?" Curiosity was a terrible sin, but in some cases it was also polite. Far better to keep with the topic at hand than ask about those wings, he was convinced he wouldn't like the answers to anything he could inquire after in that direction. Nope, better to not think about them at all.