The winds of the south violently brushed against silver and onyx threads as they rippled and wrapped around the curvature of his neck and heal of his shoulders. Captivated in the moment, it seemed as if slow-motion had taken over the earth; but for a moment. It was almost in still frame, as she gathered herself, the way her muscles moved- her coat shimmering under the summer sun, the way she turned and looked to him. Those haunting eyes, narrowed in curiosity caught him off guard, but their storm gray color lightened his heart. Could this have been the princess of the dark; where their last encounter was different hosting a conversation with a unknown being. Flaring nostrils breathed deep her aroma as it mixed perfectly with the wild flower and timothy hay growing upon the earth. It was sweet, and wonderful, and- What did you say?

Her tone once again caught him off guard, as his slow-motion picture suddenly came to a grinding halt. Trying to refocus he returned his golden gaze to her stormy glare. Lips suddenly sealed in a moment of stage fright, unsure of how to answer her question. Perhaps he had made a mistake; perhaps this wasn’t the princess of Th’orqui that he had met in the darkness of the caves. ”My apologies." Masculine tones escaped from plush velvet lips after what seemed like an eternity. ”I didn’t mean to frighten you." Tones silenced as golden hooves shifted backwards in a retreat for space. Why did she appear so offended? Perhaps, my horrible landing interrupted something. A charming grin pulls upon his ivory lips as he flexes his wings slightly, still aching from his rough landing.

Her next question, turned my attention back to her beautiful face as I listened silently, giving a gentle nod of my head in response; I think so He wanted to say. ”We’ve met before... but I could be mistaken." His gentle reply was offered in friendly, respectful tones as he remained placed just before the mare he thought was Nasreen. She was truly stunning, and he wondered if she knew that.

Such a beautiful face…

A graceful bow of his crown was given in submission to the painted lady, as he stored it to full height, andalusian heritage gracing his figure. Surely she remembered the sound of his voice in the night. ”I’m Hawkeye." He stated rather proudly, gazing upon her with a friendly smile; all in hopes that she was- in fact, Nasreen.

@[Nasreen]
ooc: c: